ESCAPE THE DARKNESS
by J7339
Summary: After the events on Weathertop time for some Frodo healing as Strider guides the hobbits towards Rivendell.
1. Default Chapter

ESCAPE THE DARKNESS

**By JULES**

**Authors Quick Note – **This story explores the idea about what might have happened if Strider had come to the Shire to forewarn Bilbo Baggins about the Ring Wraiths that would soon come hunting for the One Ring.  Commences a few days before Bilbo's Birthday party and before Gandalf returns to the shire as well.      

Strider had vows to protect Bilbo when the Ring Wraiths are sent by the Dark Lord but he is unaware that the legacy of who is to carry the Ring to be destroyed falls upon a totally different Baggins hobbit.  

In this story the corn fields in the shire are a little further away and I have added 

a lot extra between then and when the hobbit's arrive at the Prancing Pony in Bree. 

Hoping to add a few funny, light hearted moments in this one in between the 

serious stuff.  Got an hysterical idea for Strider, Merry and Pippin in the corn fields much later.   

All mention of herbs or treatments used in this story or others come about

from a little research I did into some and what their effects were.  Some 

of them have been around since Egyptian times so I have no problem using in this time frame but still am not sure if they would have been grown near Rivendell. Just have to suspend reality for a time and humour me on this one.

**Disclaimer -  I do not own any of the characters I write about.   I write about those created by J.J.R. Tolkien and marvel at such a storytellers ability to enthral us all.   There are occasional quotes from the movie in this story, just to keep the continuity going strong and to add just at the appropriate time.**

**_the_****_ story begins:_**

****

The Ranger paused on top of the ridge he had just climbed.  Down below he was to discover a very curious series of buildings and roadways.   

_So__ this was the place known as the SHIRE Strider said to himself.   _

He had often heard stories and legends about the hobbits that were supposed to live in this small community.   Curiosity was tugging at the edges of his long coat and urged him to go down and take a closer look around.

The Ranger drew his long, thick cloak around his shoulders more tightly as cold

night air blew against his neck.   He tucked one arm into the warm folds as he 

walked, but his other hand remanded within reaching distance of his sword.  

He had no knowledge of what danger may already be lurking within the small village.  He had learned a very long time ago to keep his guard up against those who served the Dark Lord Sauron.

Strider reminded himself also that the hour was particularly late and nobody would appreciate an unexpected visitor.   But the news that he carried could ill afford to wait no longer and he needed to talk to Bilbo Baggins without delay. 

****

Once the Ranger had managed to make his way into the Shire village without being detected, the next problem he faced was finding the dwelling house of Bilbo Baggins.  Although he knew the aging hobbit lived here, Strider had no clues as to which house it might be.

Strider decided he would use what limited information he had come to learn about Bilbo and deduce from there which dwelling might indeed suit that particular hobbit.

Because of the late hour, most hobbits were safely tucked in their beds asleep.  The Ranger's footsteps along the well-laden roads of the Shire were soft enough not to disturb anybody in the houses that he had already passed.

After what seemed like only a brief walk, Ranger now noticed that the roadway he was travelling on began to have a steep incline.   He proceeded to walk up this hill as none of the dwellings he had seen so far seemed to fit Bilbo Baggins.

Once he was at the top, he noticed a slightly larger hobbit dwelling, nestled off the roadway a little.   From where he was standing, the Ranger noted that the occupant of this dwelling would be able to see out over the rest of the Shire but be far enough removed from the noise and chaos to enjoy a peaceful, uninterrupted existence.

As Strider made his way closer to the hobbit dwelling, he noted that the house wasn't just a little larger than those he had already surveyed further down in the valley. This house was larger than any other hobbit abode he had come to know of.

Standing in front of the gateway that led to this house, Strider could see two signs that indicated that this was indeed Bilbo Baggin's home.  The first was a large bold sign on the front wall of the house that read _BAG END.  _

The second was a much smaller sign, hand written and attached to the gate itself as the Ranger went to step inside the yard.   It read:  _NO VISITORS, _from what Strider knew of Bilbo, the elderly hobbit was particularly fond of his own company and often shunned the rest of the world to be left alone with his books and journals.

Strider approached the front door to the house and knocked twice as loud as he

dared.  He didn't know if Bilbo would be asleep or as his desk writing well into 

the morning hours and he often was known to do.

_inside__ the house:_

Bilbo had actually retired to his bed only about an hour before he heard what

sounded like someone knocking at the front door.   At first he was minded to

just roll over and go back to sleep.

After a few more poundings on the door, it became quite clear that whoever

the late hour visitor was, they were not going to simply go away if he ignored

them.

Concern for someone other than himself quickly entered his mind as he thought

about his young nephew Frodo who was asleep in his bedroom down the hall.

Bilbo whispered to himself as he quickly gathered his robe and vowed  to stop the incessant knocking at the door before Frodo was awoken.

"I am coming, I am coming," Bilbo said in as loud a voice as he dared.   He looked briefly in the direction of  Frodo's room, but noted it still to be dark.  No noises could be heard from where he stood and so thankfully he could assume that the younger hobbit had slept through undisturbed.

"What the hell is it at this hour?" Bilbo said in an angry voice as he undid the locks and opened the door a small crack.  He almost stumbled backward in his surprise at the face that greeted him. 

"I must say you are a cranky little hobbit aren't you when you are so rudely awoken," Strider said with a grin.

Bilbo composed himself only just enough to realise what sort of rumours would be spread around the village if a big person was spotted in the Shire in the middle of the night.

"Quickly come in before someone sees you," Bilbo gestured to the Ranger.   Strider did as the hobbit bid and walked inside the house, carefully noting to duck his head as he entered.

Bilbo took the liberty of looking outside in the dark, trying to spot if anybody had seen the Ranger arrive or heard the knocking at the door.  He sighed in relief when he couldn't hear anything but the cold wind outside.

"This way please," Bilbo now said, leading Strider out of the front room and into the kitchen.  "You would be wanting something hot to drink I imagine," he commented, and went about putting a pot of water on to boil before the Ranger had even had a chance to reply.

"I must apologize deeply for the late hour of my calling Bilbo," Strider said as

he gazed around at the home.  From outside, nobody would ever dream of what

sights and aromas would be waiting on the inside.   The kitchen was richly scented with many herbs from earthen ware jars that were resting upon a shelf near the fireplace.

The rooms were quite larger that Strider had expected too.  Though small for

a big person in many ways, he had no doubt that the same space could be seen as comfortable and open to a hobbit of Bilbo's size.

"Please take a seat Aragorn," Bilbo stated.   He was facing the wrong way to see

the look on the Ranger's face when he uttered the man's other name out loud.  Strider did not correct the old hobbit on this occasion.   He would have to speak to Bilbo about not using that name around these parts.

"You must be weary after your journey," Bilbo now said, trying to ease the obvious tension that saturated the room.  "I would offer you the spare room in my humble home for as long as you intend staying," he added.

"Thank you, and I will take up your offer, for tonight anyway," Strider replied in gratitude.  He knew that they must soon be leaving this place.  Although there was no set time about when the dark forces might descend.   The Ranger knew that it wouldn't be too far into the near future that the hobbit would be farewelling the Shire.

Bilbo now turned around from the fireplace and handed the Ranger a cup of piping hot tea.  Deep down inside he knew that Strider would not have ventured upon chance into his village on such a night. 

He knew that there was a yearning for him to seek the solitude of other places for the remainder of his days.   If Strider was here than the secret he had kept in the pocket of his coat for the past 60 years was about to be revealed once again.

Bilbo fumbled a little with his cup and saucer, finding it hard to conceal the nervousness that was multiplying by the minute.  "Let us move into the living room where we will be more comfortable."

Strider gave no indication to the hobbit that he sensed all was not well with Bilbo. The Ranger suspected that he knew the true reason for his presence tonight but refrained from speaking about such matters for the time being.

"Sit here Ranger," Bilbo said as he straightened the cushions on the large chair.

He didn't usually have furniture that would hold a big person's weight.  He hoped it would be sufficient for the time being anyhow.

Although Strider did notice that the chair was a little cramping on his sides, he didn't voice any complaint.  He had been travelling for many days on barely enough food and water rations to keep anybody going.  Any respite was welcome with open arms. He could scarcely remember what it would feel like later on tonight to sleep in a bed. The ground amongst the trees had been his pillow for the past three nights in a row.

Bilbo Baggins now took up in his own favourite comfortable chair, pulling it close so as to keep their voices subdued and low during conversations.  

At first, there was no conversation between the two at all.  The fire crackled and

burned, giving light and warmth, but the room felt incredibly oppressive and dark at the moment to Bilbo as he played with the ring in his pocket.

Strider finally broke the uneasy silence by speaking to the hobbit about the current and past events in Rivendell.  He knew that the old fool would relax slightly upon hearing the tales of the place he longed to visit.   

They spoke of Elrond and the elves that were living there and things that had happened since Bilbo's last visit.  But that visit was so very long ago and Bilbo's soul felt very tormented and heavy for fear of not seeing such a wonderful place again.

All the time they spoke, they were unaware of a few small steps that approach them from behind…………………………..

When Strider had first knocked on the door, Frodo had been sound asleep.   The consistent pounding though had done what Bilbo feared and awoke the younger

hobbit.   He opened his eyes at first, trying to listen to the sound.   When he heard the sound a second and third time, he sat up fully in bed, trying to listen.  

Frodo had just been about to get up himself when he heard the cranky mutterings of his dear old uncle coming out of his room.   He heard his uncle then demand to know who was at the door at such a time.

From there on in until now, Frodo had only heard whispered voices and somebody walking about.  He knew some of the footsteps belonged to Bilbo, but there was a second distinct and heavier footsteps upon the wooden floor.

The young hobbit was worried that his uncle might have been in danger from the late night visitor.  He didn't quite know if he would be able to defend himself and uncle Bilbo, but Frodo had enough courage in him to try if it became necessary.

The young hobbit told himself that it was time that he found out for himself who 

had entered his home.    He tiptoed out of his room and long the short corridor

towards the kitchen.  He paused though as the voices seemed to be coming from

a different room of the house now:  the living room.

Frodo moved as close as he dared, not wanting to intrude on the conversations

between his uncle Bilbo and the stranger.  He could make out the stranger from

where he was standing and almost gasped out aloud in surprise when he noted

how big this man seemed to be.

Frodo had been told long ago about the race of man.  He had even been fortunate enough a few years back to see some humans from a distance.  But up this close, there size was certainly a site to behold.   The man was sitting down but even then he was a good deal taller than anybody else Frodo had seen. 

His features were hidden somewhat by the darkness of the living room.  Only when the fire crackled brightest could Frodo just make out the dark shape of his eyes that seemed to look right back at him.  His voice was much deeper too, though not harsh sounding as one would expect for somebody so big.

"You have many things to tell me Ranger, I can see them in your eyes," Bilbo now stated, knowing that he and the stranger could no longer talk idleness with evil was certainly growing by the day.

"You know you have to leave this place, and soon Bilbo Baggins," Strider said

plainly.

"Yes I know, I have already made preparations for such a journey, but there are

a lot more to make," Bilbo said, not realising that somebody else had heard these words.

Frodo threw himself back against a wall where he couldn't be seen as he listened to his uncle's words.  His heart was beating inside his small chest like it was ready to explode.   His eyes were as wide as saucers and held a stricken look as they began welling up with unshed tears at the thought that his beloved uncle was going to leave him alone.

The young hobbit had still not made his presence known to Bilbo and Strider.  With fresh hot tears running down his face and a heavy heart that tore him up inside, he sought the sanctuary of his bedroom.   He flung himself onto the bed and continued to shed the tears into his pillow but nobody else heard his sorrow.    

After ten minutes, Frodo had finally cried himself to sleep.  He had tried to think of a reason why his uncle was leaving the Shire.  He had lived in the Shire a very long time and up until this night had not suggested at leaving at any stage.

Somewhere amidst his dreams, Frodo promised himself that he would not let his 

uncle leave without him knowing about it.  He would watch closely for any signs that Bilbo displayed.  If uncle Bilbo was going anywhere, Frodo would be going too.

It was well into the wee hours of the morning before Bilbo and Strider finished their conversation by the fireplace.  They still had much to talk about but would wait until their bodies were a little more rested to speak further about such matters.

**_the_****_ next morning:_**

****

The day had started early for Samwise Gamgee and his Gaffer.   The two had wanted to get Master Bilbo's garden ready for the big celebration that was fast approaching.

The next day would be a busy day of preparing the feast that would be needed and therefore there would be little time for gardening pleasures.  Hamfast Gamgee also wanted to make sure that Bilbo would have the freshest produce from the vegetable patch for the dishes that he needed to prepare.

Gaffer had told his son that he needed to head back to their shed and gather a few more tools that he required for the days work.  Sam nodded in acknowledgement and told his father that he would be diligently tending to the smaller flower beds around the house.   More particularly, directly under the kitchen window Sam said secretly to himself.

Sam wanted to be able to see when his master Frodo was awake.  From the window he would be able to hear the young hobbit once he entered the kitchen for breakfast.  He took a forked hand trowel and whilst supporting himself on his hand and knees, began loosing the soil around the flowers.    The household inside was still quiet and he wasn't of a mind to wake any of the occupants before they were ready to rise on their own.

Sam was unaware of the midnight visitor to Bag End.

Strider had slept a few hours, but now sat in a corner of the kitchen that was perhaps a little darker than the rest of the room.  Weariness had allowed him to sleep initially, but after that, his body had begun to feel particularly cramped from the smallness of the bed.  His feet had reached well over the edge and it had taken almost three hobbit size blankets to cover his toes.

He had managed to boil himself a cup of tea and sat silently whilst he sipped the

hot liquid, pondering what the day would ensue for himself and Bilbo Baggins.

Bilbo was still sleeping soundly after he and the Ranger had bid each other goodnight. It was doubtful that the old hobbit would stir for another hour or more yet.  

On the other hand, Frodo Baggins, of whom Strider had no knowledge so far, was just beginning to awake from his sleep.  Frodo reached up and rubbed at his eyes that seemed a little puffy and red this morning.   The young hobbit had very little memory of any of the events that had unfolded the night before.  He had temporarily forgotten all about any stranger arriving in the dead of night or any of Bilbo's talk of leaving the Shire.

Frodo got out of his bed and washed his face in a bowl of water, trying to rid himself of a strange heaviness that he seemed to carry with him this morning.  He dressed as he would have any other day and headed out to the kitchen for a cup of tea.

Frodo walked into the kitchen, but from where he stood beside the stove, the Ranger's presence was still cloaked in shadows.  He went about his tasks, unaware that he was being curiously watched from behind.

Strider had been startled by the sudden appearance of a young hobbit in 

Bag End that morning.   He didn't know who the he was, but his attention 

seemed to be drawn to the lad for a reason that he couldn't explain.

Bilbo had not mentioned that he shared his accommodations with anybody 

when they had spoken a few hours ago.  Perhaps the lad was just a helper 

or assistant of some kind to the old hobbit.   Bilbo was getting on in age 

and maybe this lad just helped out with some of the household chores that were necessary.

Samwise had a smile on his face as he recognized the sounds of his master in the kitchen.   He watched from the window but had yet to greet Frodo, completely forgetting about the flowers for a few minutes.  He had no idea of the chaos and confusion that was about to be commenced.

Frodo by now had boiled the water sufficiently for his tea.  He was of a mind to

cook some breakfast too, but chose to wait a little longer for food.  Tea was 

something he had enjoyed for a very long time, warming him when he felt 

cold and leaving a feeling of comfort and contentment inside.

Frodo reached into one of the earthenware jars that was beside the stove and now sprinkled a few dried, crushed leaves into the water, standing back and allowing them to infuse.   The aroma was both stimulating and welcoming to the senses first thing in the morning.

Strider had now decided that it best to let the young hobbit know of his presence.  He was quite unprepared for the reaction he would extract from Frodo.

Frodo now held his freshly made cup of tea in a saucer and was gently carrying

both to the small table in the centre of the room when a voice came out of nowhere.

"Hello there young hobbit," Strider now greeted Frodo, keeping his voice gentle

so as not to startle the little one.   Unfortunately though the damage had already

been done.

"Ahhhh," Frodo exclaimed in fright at the voice.  He stumbled back, spilling the

hot scalding tea over his hand.  The cup and saucer fell to the floor and smashed

into a number of larger pieces and small shards.   

"Sorry little one I did not mean to scare you so," Strider said as he rose from the

chair he sat on and attempted to approach the hobbit.  He had seen the lad grimace at the pain the hot water had caused. 

But Frodo's fright only escalated exponentially as he realised that the stranger

in the room was a big person.   The man's height was threatening, making Frodo

back away as far as he could, but alas his escape was abruptly halted by the wall

behind him. 

"Help," Frodo said, barely above a whisper due to the absence of his voice. 

He now made an effort to shield himself underneath the table.  Maybe the lower

vantage point would benefit him from the stranger being able to reach him.

"HELP !!!!!!!" Frodo said again, a little louder this time as he got down on his

hand and knees and scurried across the broken cup and saucer to the safety

he sought under the table.   He was only briefly aware of a stinging sensation

to a few places on his knees.  His scalded hand was protectively tucked against

his chest, the burn already making the young hobbit hold back tears of pain.

Strider was now trying to bend over and talk soothingly to the young hobbit

that seemed hurt and very afraid of him.   Somehow things had not gone as he

had planned and he blamed himself for the young one's pain and fright.  He 

had to make amends quickly.

Bilbo had yet to hear his nephew's cries for help, only stirring slightly at the 

shout that Frodo uttered.   The old hobbit's sleep had not been quite disturbed

yet.

Samwise had heard his master's plea for help and gave no hesitation in trying

to scramble through the slightly open window to come to Frodo's aid.  

"Stay back, stay back," Frodo said in alarm as he tried to curl in on himself as

the outstretched hand of the stranger came closer and closer to him.

"I am not here to hurt you little one," Strider said in a soft voice, seeing the lad

obvious distress.  He finally managed to grasp a hold on the young hobbit's 

shirt sleeve and tried in vain to pull him out from underneath the table so he

could see how badly hurt he was.

"NO, LET ME GO" Frodo cried as he reached up with his hands and tried

to pry loose the grip on his clothes.

By now Sam was fully in the room and ready to help his master from the assailant.  The sandy-haired hobbit swallowed slightly as he looked at Frodo's attacker and noted that he was a big person.  The man was very tall.  Much taller than anybody Sam had ever encountered.

But Sam soon swallowed his fear as he heard his master's cry to leave him alone.  Big person or not, this man was not going to hurt Frodo.

Strider was still slightly bend over as he held the frightened and trembling Frodo out in front of him, still trying to assess his injuries.  He was not prepared for the sharp sting of pain that resulted as Sam's trusty forked trowel was now dug into his backside.

"OW," Strider said as he whirled around to see what had struck him.   When

he looked behind, he was not able to immediately see the reason for his pain.

Sam's small, stocky body was shadowed by his own large frame.

The sting had made him loosen his grip on Frodo's shirt, but as he turned back 

to look at the young hobbit, he noted the paleness of the little one's face.  He could see the boy was swaying slightly on his feet and didn't look too well at all.

Strider now went to readjust the hold he had on the young hobbit to prevent him 

falling to the floor, but his actions only seemed to make things worse.  His hands had made a more of a pushing motion towards Frodo rather than preventing him from fainting.

Frodo felt the slight push, but with his unsteady stance, was more than he could handle and he now fell back towards the floor with a audible groan.  The groan

was quickly replaced by a yelp of pain as he had tried to stop the fall and used

his injured hand to support his weight.   The hand was now throbbing from the

effort and fresh tears of pain welled up in Frodo's eyes.

Sam's anger had grown as he watched the stranger push his master over onto

the floor.  The man had already scared the young hobbit and had tried to bring

harm on him.  Sam was not about to let the man's actions go unanswered.

Once again he thrust his garden trowel towards Strider's backside, this time

with a little more strength behind it.

"OW", Strider repeated, a hand quickly rubbing slightly at the pained area

as he felt another assault on his body.  This time his hand snaked up and

caught a hold of the collar of the responsible party.

By now Bilbo had heard the various cries of pains and shouts coming from

the kitchen.   When he came running in he was greeted with an unbelievable

scene before him.

Frodo was still laying on his back on the floor, clasping his injured hand up

and under his shirt, trying hard not to let his tears fall.

Strider was standing in front of his nephew and struggling in the Ranger's

grip, threatening trying to swipe at the man with his garden tool was Samwise

Gamgee.  The little hobbit's face was red from anger as he demanded that

the big person let him go.   Strider was careful enough to hold Sam just out

far enough to prevent anything else happening.

"Good morning Strider," Bilbo said in an amused tone of voice.  "I see you

already have everything under control," he added, much to the displeasure

of the Ranger.   

Bilbo now bend down to Frodo and started talking soothingly to his nephew as he assessed the damage.

TO BE CONTINUED……………..

This story might take a few different courses – hopefully a lot people will be

able to follow easily enough.  The plot might be come a little more complicated

once it gets going.

Going to crawl back to one of my more familiar fandoms for a little while before updating this one to see how people like it.

Enjoy and please let me know what you think.  Any suggestions are welcome

and I will try and include where I can but cannot promise.

JULES


	2. Author Notes

Authors Note: I have changed my mind about how to work the three stories I have currently in progress - ESCAPE THE DARKNESS - Will cover the times from The Shire when we first meet Frodo and his friends and will continue on until after the events at WeatherTop and onto Rivendell. SPY IN RIVENDELL - Will cover the healing of Frodo's wound from the blade and some other events and continue until they reach the outside of the Mines of Moria. A THOUSAND EYES - Will cover the events that occurred in the Mines of Moria and afterwards until Boromir tries to take the ring from Frodo. There will be a lot of events that I put in that never happened in the book or the movie. But basically I will follow the trail from start and onwards - adding a very different ending after A THOUSAND EYES - that story yet to be named will focus on what might have occurred if the Fellowship had never been split up and continued onto Mount Doom. My computer has been down for a few weeks and I had to brain storm on paper for a while and that's when I thought about how to join all of these stories together and link them with certain parts that did happen and others that I dreamed up. The next story to be updated will be ESCAPE THE DARKNESS. JULES 


	3. Breakfast at Bag End

ESCAPE THE DARKNESS By JULES  
  
"It's alright Frodo my lad," Bilbo said as he tried to reassure his young nephew who was still in pain from the hot water on his hand as well as dealing with his being startled by the Ranger.  
  
"Come on, let's get you up off the floor and I will take a look at your hand," Bilbo added. Frodo gratefully accepted his Uncle's assistance to stand and then to sit on one of the kitchen chairs.  
  
Bilbo now turned around and saw Samwise still trying to break free from Strider's grip on his clothes. "Give me the fork Sam," Bilbo instructed, holding out his hand. Sam was a little reluctant to give up his trowel at first and looked back towards the Ranger a few times before handing over the small hand tool.  
  
Bilbo was aware of Sam's fierce loyalty to Frodo and decided to make a choice that would suit both. "Samwise could you please get me a large bowl and pour some cold water into it please."  
  
"Yes Master Bilbo," Sam said, and was grateful when Strider set him down on the floor before releasing his grasp. The young hobbit did as he was asked without so much as a questioning look.  
  
Strider was still standing close by, observing the interactions of these curious little people. He knew that he wasn't being ignored. Bilbo would make the necessary introductions when he had seen to Frodo's injured hand.  
  
"Here you go Master Bilbo, nice and cold," Sam said as he brought back an over-sized bowl filled almost to the brim. When he set it on the table some of it sloshed over the sides and onto the table cloth. "I am sorry Master Bilbo," Sam said sheepishly.  
  
"That's alright Sam, the water will do nicely for Frodo's burn," Bilbo said, taking the conversation away from the mishap entirely. "Cold water is the best medicine for this sort of things, takes the sting out of it right away and the longer you leave the burn submerged, the better the results."  
  
Frodo had yet to say anything to anybody in the room. He eyes wandered on a few occasions to where the Ranger was standing. He still had a small amount of fear about the man unsettled inside of him, but that was mostly due to the Ranger's size. When he looked into the man's eyes, they seemed to portray a difference that wasn't immediately noticed from the outer appearance.  
  
"Now let's take that hand out Frodo," Bilbo said gently, trying to pry it out from underneath the lad's coat. He didn't want to pull too much and cause any more discomfort than was already apparent on his nephew's face.  
  
Frodo wasn't quite sure what was going to happen, but he had enough faith and trust in his Uncle Bilbo to let the old hobbit attend to his injury as he deemed necessary. He couldn't suppress the wince of pain that escaped his lips as his Uncle's fingers came in contact with the reddened and blistered skin.  
  
"My apologies again little one for causing you this pain," Strider commented again as he watched the young hobbit. By now he too had had time to observe a little more of Frodo's facial features and he was amazed at the colour of the boy's eyes. He had never seen such a colour in a hobbit's eyes before in his travels.  
  
Most hobbit's he had come to meet had either hazel eyes or ones of deep brown. They had always spoke of warmth and hospitality that the little people were known for. They also spoke of truth and honesty in what they did for the livelihoods and how they raised their families.  
  
Looking at Frodo's vivid blue eyes, Strider wasn't quite sure what qualities this lad would possess. If the lad had been under Bilbo's tuition he was in no doubt that all of the other characteristics he knew of would be present, but there was something else compelling about Frodo that the Ranger couldn't quite put into words at the moment.  
  
"I am sorry too, for acting so rashly Sir, but you startled me and I lost my balance and the caused most of my own injury." Frodo said in response. His injured hand was now relaxing in to cool water and it did feel quite good. Some of the stinging sensation was already easing due to the temperature of the water.  
  
"I think it is long overdue for some introductions," Bilbo now said as he sat on a chair beside his nephew, carefully monitoring the burn on Frodo's hand. He could see a reddened area spreading across half of the small hand but would wait until the water had done it's job to take a more careful look at the damage.  
  
"Frodo my lad, this man is called Strider. We have known each other a great many years and you have no reason to be afraid of him. His a man as you can see but he means no harm to us here in the Shire," Bilbo explained.  
  
"Strider, this gentle lad is my nephew Frodo Baggins. His more correctly in a cousin, but the lineages from my family tree are too complicated to explain so it is easier that he call me Uncle," Bilbo continued.  
  
"Nice to meet you Sir," Frodo said in a most polite manner.  
  
"As it is to meet you Master Baggins," Strider replied, his manner also polite but almost regal sounding.  
  
"This other young hobbit you have already met by other methods," Bilbo stated, hinting at the forked trowel, "Samwise Gamgee."  
  
"Hello," Sam said in a small voice, wondering if the man was going to ask for some sort of punishment for such rude treatment. "I apologize not acting proper, but I thought you meant to hurt Mr Frodo here, and I couldn't let that happen," Sam explained.  
  
"Apology not necessary Mr Gamgee when you are defending or protecting somebody you care for. It is a fine thing you look out for you friend, even when he doesn't ask," the Ranger commented.  
  
Sam sighed audibly in relief at the man's words and now took up a seat of his own at the table once Bilbo gestured for him to do so.  
  
"You let that hand soak in that water while I start making breakfast Frodo my lad and then I will take a better look at it." Bilbo said as he added a pinch of a herb into the water, allowing it to infuse. It usually worked better if the water was hot or boiling, but a small amount should show some benefit.  
  
"I must have been away longer than I thought Bilbo. I had yet to learn that you had another family member staying with you," Strider said as he watched the older hobbit hover around the assortment of pots and pots.  
  
"It has been too long since we last seen each other Strider," Bilbo admitted, still talking with his back to the Ranger. He turned around to make a large pot of tea as he continued the conversation. "I brought Frodo back with me from Brandy Hall and adopted him as my own. He is the now my heir and the heir of Bag End when the time comes."  
  
"Here you go Frodo, tea just the way you like it and I added an extra spoon of honey just for you this morning," Bilbo said as he placed the cup in front of the lad's good hand.  
  
"Adopted? May I ask where your parents are?" Strider asked not realizing that the topic was one that Frodo was not ready to discuss anytime, including the breakfast table with someone he had only just met.  
  
Strider quickly regretted his question as he watched Frodo stare intently into his cup of tea, his face and cheeks turning a few shades redder, refusing to look at the person directing the question.  
  
Bilbo now gave a curt shake of his head to the Ranger that indicated the subject was better to be discussed when such tender ears wouldn't hear.  
  
"I humbly apologize again little one. It seems that I have hurt you too many times already this morning even with just simple words," Strider said.  
  
"It's alright Sir, even after all these years, the memories are still hurtful to recall," Frodo said as he looked up, a single tear barely visible against the blue background. "My parents were accidentally drowned when I was only 12 years old," he added, at least completing half of the Ranger's question.  
  
"Please forgive me for my curiosity," Strider asked formally.  
  
"You were not to know," Frodo said, giving the Ranger a small smile in return.  
  
"Sam would you like to join us in breakfast?" Bilbo now asked Frodo's friend sitting across the other side of the table. Bilbo thought Sam's company would be most warranted this morning.  
  
Sam looked a little shocked at first to the Ranger. He knew very little about the hierarchy that the hobbit society abided by but assumed that Sam thought he would be out of place.  
  
"If you think that it would be alright Master Bilbo," Sam finally said, not really wanting to leave Mr Frodo at this point in time. "My Gaffer would not think it proper unless an invitation be given first."  
  
"Well I will need your assistance with Frodo's hand in a few minutes and he may require some help during his own breakfast," Bilbo said with a sly wink towards his nephew.  
  
Frodo was grateful that Bilbo had asked Sam. He would be more at ease with his young friend joining them for breakfast. He gave an appreciative smile to his Uncle and in return got a slight squeeze on his shoulder that spoke volumes. There were times when he and his Uncle needed to use very little words to convey how they felt towards each other.  
  
"I would like you to stay please Sam," Frodo said in a gentle voice.  
  
"For Mr Frodo anything," Sam said honestly. "Just tell me what I need to do Mr Bilbo."  
  
"Okay Sam, well I have just about finished cooking breakfast," Bilbo said as he laid out an array of dishes that would suit both man and hobbit down the opposite end of the table from Frodo.  
  
Even from that short distance away, the aromas were tantalizing and they looked much better than what the Ranger had been living of before arriving in the Shire. Strider couldn't be anything else but impressed with Bilbo's culinary talent.  
  
"Now they are a little hot so while they cool slightly to enjoy I will take a look at this hand now Frodo," Bilbo said. He walked to the pantry and from one of the bottom shelves, produced a small cloth bag that contained some medicinal herbs and bandages.  
  
Laying the bag on the table he now gentle removed Frodo's hand from the water. It was now tepid to the touch and would be of little benefit. Bilbo carefully dried the small hand on a clean towel and closely examined the redness and blistering.  
  
Bilbo could feel the Ranger's eyes on him and Frodo's hand the entire time, knowing of the Ranger's healing abilities and skill, but choosing not to reveal them for such a minor incident. Frodo would come to know everything about the Ranger when it needed to be known.  
  
"Well I think you have been most fortunate Frodo," Bilbo said, voicing his own relief that the burn had not been as serious as it could have been.  
  
"Will he be alright Mr Bilbo?" Sam asked, seeming to be the only one not yet fully convinced.  
  
"Well, we will have to keep this area of the hand wrapped for a few days where the skin is most blistered. If the blisters are allowed to burst, then they may become infected if they are not kept extremely clean," Bilbo explained to Sam and Frodo.  
  
"But other than that and a few applications of a moisturizing salve once the blisters have burst to keep the skin soft, then you should be just fine Frodo," Bilbo said as he now dug into the bag and gathered what he would need.  
  
Not less than ten minutes later, Frodo's hand was bandaged from the wrist to just above his thumb. The bandage was firm enough to prevent any foreign objects or dirt from entering but still allow Frodo almost full use of his hand. He would need to be careful about how he picked up things for a day or so until the soreness went away, but then he should just need to keep it clean and it would heal on it's own without too much trouble.  
  
Frodo was happy that he didn't lose the use of his hand. He wouldn't not have been very pleased to have to rely on somebody else to help him out with certain tasks. One trait Strider was yet to learn about the shy young hobbit was his fierce sense of independence. It had been instilled into him from a very young age when most children perhaps were not expected to display the same.  
  
"Now is that all that needs looking at Frodo?" Bilbo asked, knowing his nephew had a tendency to hide pain from him in the past on occasion.  
  
Frodo was about to answer negatively to his Uncle when Sam answered on his behalf: "I think he might have cut his knee on the broken cup Mr Bilbo," he informed the older hobbit. Frodo inwardly groaned and didn't think that such a minor scratch would need any attention.  
  
Bilbo could see the quick change in facial expressions on Frodo that confirmed at least part of Sam's theory to be truthful. Frodo was forced to pull his chair away enough from the table to allow Bilbo to judge for himself if there was any medical attention needed.  
  
Fortunately for Frodo though, Bilbo erred towards his nephew's thoughts upon looking at the three or four scratches that had occurred from the shards of broken cup and saucer. He briefly gave the area a swab with clean water on a cloth to clean the small amount of blood but would leave such minor abrasions to heal on their own.  
  
"When did you arrive in the Shire Mr Strider?" Sam asked innocently, trying to think of a way around coming and out to ask why the Ranger was here.  
  
"I knocked on Bilbo's door late last night Sam," Strider answered. He knew there would be a lot of such questions asked about his sudden presence in the Shire. Some he was prepared to answer, others would be left for only those whom were directly involved.  
  
Strider looked over at Frodo after answering Sam's question and couldn't help but think that the expression on the lad's face gave him away. Frodo could have guessed that he had arrived the night before just by his appearance at breakfast. Something told the Ranger that Frodo knew exactly when he had knocked on the door last night.  
  
Had I awoken Frodo with my arrival? Strider thought to himself. If that was so, How much more information was he aware of that he had perhaps overheard?  
  
Bilbo came to the Ranger's rescue, "I can see you are most interested in why Mr Strider is here Sam," he commented. He had to come up with a plausible explanation for Frodo too. Sam would take anything he was told upon face value. Frodo however would not and he was astute enough to see through any deception that Bilbo might be concealing.  
  
Strider tried to hide the smile that had formed on his lips at the older hobbit's remark. He didn't know how Bilbo expected to explain himself out of this, but he was certainly going to let him try first before the question was asked squarely of him.  
  
Frodo of course was now just as curious about Strider's reason for being there as Sam's. He just wasn't as confident in asking the affairs of someone else.  
  
Bilbo thought for a few seconds: "I asked Strider to come to my Birthday Party Sam, for two reasons. Firstly because it is my birthday and he and I have known each other a very long time. Everyone thinks I am mad anyway so the appearance of a man at my party will certainly get the tongues waging for quite a while in the Shire I should think," he said with a grin.  
  
Bilbo certainly knew of the various rumours and idle gossip that circulated about him and Bag End and his adoption of Frodo. He didn't usually listen to them except when they inadvertently hurt Frodo's feelings or if something was said out of nastiness or pure spitefulness.  
  
"As you know Frodo, my other dear long time friend Gandalf is also due to come today or tomorrow for the party as well. I have heard from certain sources that will remain secret that there may be some people at the party who are willing to cause some trouble either before, during or after the party. Therefore, I am taking all the necessary precautions in case these troubles eventuate," Bilbo said, explaining his second reason.  
  
"This is the second reason I have asked for Mr Strider to attend. I am hoping that he will be able to spot any trouble before it starts and deal with it accordingly without disrupting everyone else," Bilbo informed the two younger hobbits seated at the table.  
  
"You certainly look like you would be able to help out there Sir, if you take my meaning, no offence intended," Samwise commented. He seemed satisfied enough with the explanation for the Ranger being in the Shire. With the man's size, he doubted there would be a hobbit daring to put a foot out of line.  
  
Strider didn't make any comment but looked intently at Frodo to see if he bought the same explanation as easily as Sam. Frodo's face though was paused with a frown at present. Not because of the reasons given, but the announcement that somebody might be out to make trouble for his Uncle's birthday.  
  
Frodo preferred to stay away from many of the shire folk that spoke ill of his Uncle or himself but he would be determined to stop such foolishness and nonsense such as trouble if he knew if was about to take place.  
  
Frodo knew that there were a great many people invited to the birthday party. His Uncle had shown him the guest list a number of times and had included a lot of distant relatives for his benefit even though he had told Bilbo it wasn't necessary to invite them. Some of the names on the list Frodo couldn't even put a face to and many of them would be travelling a great distance.  
  
Frodo of course hadn't even considered the idea that he was the primary person Bilbo had asked the Ranger to help protect from the trouble. He was only concerned about his Uncle and assumed that if Bilbo had thought there was going to be trouble then such information couldn't be taken lightly.  
  
"Don't worry Uncle, I will make sure that nobody interrupts the celebrations," Frodo now said with determination in his voice.  
  
"Oh Frodo, my boy, I know you will look after your Uncle," Bilbo said with a proud laugh as he gave his nephew's hand a quick squeeze to signify his gratitude.  
  
"And I will be there watching out for you too Mr Frodo," Sam said as he now realized that Bilbo's concerns were mostly for his master than himself.  
  
"And if this morning is anything to go by, then you have nothing to worry about Frodo," Strider said as he rubbed absentmindedly at the part of his rump that Sam had stabbed with the garden fork.  
  
All four around the table laughed together in mirth and breakfast was commenced, even though a little late.  
  
Strider had filled his own plate sparsely as he did not require large amounts of food as hobbits were known to consume. He didn't quite understand the custom they had of partaking in a meal more than three times a day. He supposed because of their stout bodies they needed more fuel oftener to keep themselves going.  
  
The differences in physique between Sam and Bilbo to Frodo had been apparent even after only brief glimpses at the boy earlier that morning. Whilst Bilbo and Sam had the normal short, rotund build that was associated with hobbits, Frodo was as thin as a pencil, not an ounce of extra weight to him.  
  
Sam's plate was quite the opposite from that of the Ranger's. His plate was full with a little out of each dish, as too was Bilbo's plate. They both were enjoying their breakfast with rejuvenated vigour. Frodo's plate was quite sparse in helping as Striders. He had only taken a few samples of his favourite dishes and now only picked occasionally at the plate with his utensils.  
  
"If it is alright with you Uncle, I think I will go for my walk now," Frodo announced, pushing aside his barely eaten breakfast and getting up from the table.  
  
Sam looked a little disappointed at how much his Master had consumed but didn't let Frodo see it openly. His own plate was only half finished and he rather have preferred to eat the rest.  
  
"That's alright Sam, I can go for the walk on my own, you can catch me up after you have finished," Frodo suggested. The thinner hobbit cherished his friendship with Sam but also treasured the times when he was left to his own devices and wander at his own leisure.  
  
"That's alright Frodo, off you go but be careful. Sam you can finish your breakfast and then be so kind as to show Strider around the Shire for a few hours and then meet up with Frodo later while I attend to some necessary business for the celebration," Bilbo said. He could see his nephew's wish for some solitude and was happy to cater to both Frodo and Sam.  
  
"Of course Mr Bilbo," Sam said in respect. He didn't want to get his Gaffer's Master cross but he didn't feel right leaving Frodo alone for too long either. Bilbo's idea would work out for all involved. Sam often wondered if Bilbo wasn't more educated than most shire folk gave him credit for.  
  
"Are you certain that you have had enough breakfast Frodo," Bilbo asked, a little worried about how much his nephew had left on his plate. Frodo's eating habits were always a source of concern for the older hobbit but all of the methods he had employed to change them so far had either failed or not had the desired effect.  
  
"I will see you a little later than Sam, hopefully with yourself Mr Strider," Frodo said, his manners and politeness again shining through. He failed to answer his Uncle's question or decided to avoid it.  
  
"Good day to you Mr Frodo, I trust you will enjoy your walk," Strider replied.  
  
"No rough play today with that hand Frodo," Bilbo said as his nephew opened the door and prepared to leave.  
  
"I only plan to go as far as the trees Uncle and maybe read a little," Frodo responded with a smile and then closing the door behind him.  
  
"Read?," Strider asked questioningly of Bilbo. "You have a young scholar for nephew then my old friend."  
  
"Yes, Frodo has always preferred quiet reading under a tree to more physical interests that other boys his own age participate in," Bilbo answered. "He learns well and very quickly so be on your guard Strider," he added with a smile, knowing that his nephew's thinking might even match that of the Ranger himself.  
  
"Sam, why don't you get ready to show Mr Strider around the Shire whilst we wait for you in the sitting room," Bilbo said, indicating to the Ranger that he wished to say a few words out of earshot of the younger hobbit.  
  
"Yes Mr Bilbo Sir," Sam replied, not reading anymore in the request.  
  
Strider and Bilbo moved to the sitting room to continue their whispered conversation. "Strider I don't want to seem like an overbearing old fool, but I can't tell you how much Frodo has come to mean to me since moving here. It would disturb me greatly if harm of any kind was to befall him, even if accidental."  
  
"You wish me to keep an eye out for the lad whilst I am here Bilbo," Strider said almost as though he read the old hobbit's train of thought. "I would be honoured to do so and you need not ask. I must say he already is a very likeable young hobbit and I have only just met him."  
  
"Don't get me wrong Strider, Samwise has always looked out for Frodo and he can tell you some of the harshness that my nephew faces every day from folk who have nothing better to do than say an unkind word. But if what you say is true about a darkness coming to this area soon, then there is all the more reason to be extra vigilant against things that neither Frodo or Sam have come across before," Bilbo stated as he voiced his worst fears to the Ranger.  
  
"Frodo wouldn't like the idea of him being watched over constantly by someone such as yourself. That is why I suggested that you and Sam meet up with him later, that way you could still appear to be observing from a distance without crowding his individual space. He enjoys his hours alone and I don't want to put a stop to his wishes, but I need to make sure that he is safe too," Bilbo added.  
  
"Understood Bilbo. I won't alert the lad to anything other than friendship between himself and me," Strider replied.  
  
Any further discussions between the Ranger and Bilbo were interrupted by Sam's appearance at the sitting room doorway, signaling that he was ready to leave upon their tour of the Shire.  
  
"I'll leave you in Sam's capable hands Strider. I will be here in my study if you require anything. I trust you too enjoy your walk. Sam make sure you take Strider by the field that I intend using for the birthday party celebrations. The marques and tables won't be erected before tomorrow afternoon, but at least he will have an overview of the area," Bilbo instructed.  
  
*****************************************************  
  
An hour after Samwise and Strider had left Bilbo's house together in company, the Ranger was still fascinated by the young hobbit's knowledge of local history and current events.  
  
Sam had barely stopped talking to take a breath and his knowledge of who lived in what dwelling with whom and each scandal that presented itself was in depth and made for very interesting conversation as they walked.  
  
"Would you mind telling me a few more things about your master Frodo, since you seem to know him better than most?" Strider asked as Sam stopped his last sentence.  
  
"I would tell you what I can without Frodo being cross at me for telling Sir," Sam replied.  
  
"Alright then, you just tell me if I ask the wrong type of question or one that you will not answer for fear of what Frodo might do if he finds out," Strider said with a chuckle. He was quietly amazed at the loyalty that the young hobbit was displaying towards Frodo. It did seem that there was very little, if anything that he wouldn't do for the dark-haired lad.  
  
"Why does Frodo not look like most hobbits for instance?," Strider said as he asked his first question.  
  
"Mr Frodo has never been one to eat very much, as long as I can remember. Just seems to take a little and that's enough to keep him going. He is a lot smarter than most others in the Shire too," Sam added. "I think that comes from reading all those books with Mr Bilbo and learning all those different words."  
  
"You mean other words that he doesn't speak," Strider commented, taking that as what Sam meant by "different words".  
  
"Yes, Mr Bilbo has taught him to read some other languages such as the elves talk and the like," Sam said, giving a more detailed answer.  
  
Strider found this fact to be most interesting. He knew that Bilbo had learned a great deal about many different races through his travels. The fact that Frodo was willing to learn such difficult languages in the first place spoke highly for the lad and his ability to take in information.  
  
"What is this Brandy Hall place that Bilbo speaks about?" asking his second question.  
  
"Don't rightly know a real lot about that place. Never been out of the Shire myself, and Mr Frodo never did really like talking about it. That was the place where Mr Bilbo went to get him from when he adopted him. Mr Bilbo thinks that they didn't always treat him properly and let him be himself," Sam explained.  
  
"And seems as you know so much about your Master," Strider now said, holding back on the rest of his questions until later. He didn't want to ask too many questions all at once. "Where do you think he is right now?" he added, noting it had been quite a spell during their walk and they had yet to see any sign of Frodo in their travels.  
  
"That's an easy question," Sam said with a grin and promptly started leading Strider along a different pathway to that they were currently travelling. The Ranger soon found himself following the young hobbit through the trees and tall grass to an area dotted by very large shade trees.  
  
Sam put his fingers to his lips when he stopped, "He's over there, but I don't like disturbing him when he is reading." The hobbit held out his arm and pointed towards one of the more central trees in the field and a small figure sitting underneath it and leaning back against the trunk.  
  
From where Strider was standing, he could see Frodo was relaxed and calm, quietly reading a small brown covered book which he was holding in his uninjured hand. There was a long stalk of grass protruding from his mouth as he looked as though he was totally engrossed in the literature that was in front of him.  
  
That relaxation seemed to be shattered in a brief second as Frodo suddenly jerked his head up and scanned the immediate area. It looked to Strider and Sam as though he had been struck by some sort of object. Frodo had looked at the particular area on his arm where he felt it strike him. It hadn't hurt him, just alerted him to the fact that somebody else was nearby.  
  
Frodo didn't seem to notice Strider and Sam where they were standing. Thinking that maybe a seed from the tree above was responsible he returned to reading his book.  
  
A few seconds later his attention was drawn again from something striking his shirt, this time the projectile had hit him with a little more solid, making him gasp out of surprise rather than feeling any pain.  
  
There was now a pause in anything striking Frodo and the hobbit seemed to be satisfied enough to go back to his reading once again. He couldn't see the cause and so didn't think much about it.  
  
"What is going on?" Sam asked himself, realizing that his Master's relaxation was being disturbed by an unseen party.  
  
Strider was beginning to think that maybe Bilbo had a reason to be worried about Frodo. He used his keen eyesight to look amongst the long grass to track down the reason for Frodo's disruption.  
  
"I should have known," Sam said in a slightly angry voice as he spotted the responsible party before the Ranger. "Lotho Sackville-Baggins," he said between his teeth, pointing to the shielded figure of a hobbit trying to conceal himself in the long grass, a short distance away from Frodo.  
  
Sam could see the questioning look on the Ranger's face about who Lotho was. He decided to give the shortest but more correct account he could for a family that seemed to want to taunt his Master Frodo no matter what he was doing or where he was.  
  
"His parents Lobelia and Otho Sackville-Baggins take any chance they can to remind Mr Bilbo that my Master Mr Frodo doesn't belong here and should be sent back to Brandy Hall. They like it even less that Frodo has become Mr Bilbo's heir and they are out to take any opportunity to change that," Sam informed Strider.  
  
"They are awful hobbits, if you beggin my pardon Sir. I try not to find fault in most, but they say cruel things behind Mr Frodo's back and to his face that hurt him. Lotho and his parents think nothing about making idle threats to Mr Bilbo and Frodo about what they would do if they inherited Bag End," he continued.  
  
"Mr Frodo tries his hardest to ignore the harsh words and threats. Even so much as to act just as polite as always to then when they turn up unannounced at Bag End for afternoon tea. But it just isn't right what they say about him all the time. I wish they would just leave him alone. Maybe they are the ones that Mr Bilbo talks about making trouble at the birthday celebration," Sam now thought.  
  
"The party is also for Mr Frodo who is becoming of age and maybe they aim to spoil things before it becomes official for my Master to inherit Bag End," Sam said to Strider. "It would be just something that they would do to hurt him," he said, not able to hide the dislike that he felt towards the Sackville-Bagginses.  
  
Sam could see Lotho holding a sling shot which he was using to hurl small stones at Frodo. Sam wasn't going to stand for this nonsense and was about to go towards the other older hobbit when he felt a gentle restraining hand from Strider.  
  
It was Strider's turn to put his fingers to his lips, signaling that he would sneak up on this other hobbit nuisance and stop him from annoying Frodo with any more stones.  
  
Lotho had another stone in his hand, a little larger than the first few and was about to fire it at Frodo when he was startled by a hand grabbing the sling shot and stone from behind him.  
  
"What do you think you are doing?" Lotho demanded angry before turning around and facing Strider. He couldn't help but swallow as he noticed it was a big person. He was determined not to show his fear though and decided to demonstrate his usual arrogant and self-assured side to the stranger interrupting his fun.  
  
"What do you think you are doing Lotho?" Samwise said, tapping his foot towards the older hobbit, trying to intimidate him a little. It didn't work though as there was a considerable age difference between him and Lotho, not to mention his height.  
  
"Well if it isn't a lowly little Gamgee hobbit come to take care of his Master," Lotho jibed towards Sam. It was clear to all that he was looking down at Sam to indicate their social statuses within the Shire.  
  
"I believe Sam asked you a question young ruffian," Strider said in a low but deep voice that demanded respect.  
  
"I don't believe I have had the pleasure," Lotho said cheekily trying to see if the stranger react to such taunting. The grin was wiped from his face though as Strider's grip on his hand was made a little tighter, making the hobbit wince at the vice-like pressure.  
  
"And I don't believe you will, but you listen and do so well my young hobbit," Strider now warned. "You need not to know who I am or what I have to do with Frodo Baggins other than I plan to make sure that he comes to no harm. If you do such much as even look at him the wrong way and I find out about it....., he paused briefly to gauge if he had the hobbit's full attention. Or you attempt any unplanned or unnecessary physical contact with him then you and me will meet again under less friendlier circumstances."  
  
"Don't you threaten me," Lotho said as he pulled his hand out of the Ranger's grasp. "I will not have you talk to me in such a fashion," he added, his voice no longer able to hold the arrogant attitude.  
  
"My mother will hear of such an outrage," Lotho said, looking directly at Sam as he spoke the words. Sam knew all to well that any retribution would of course be directed at Frodo rather than the big person.  
  
Lotho now stormed off in the opposite direction of Strider and Sam and Frodo, heading back towards the town, mumbling to himself that such insults would not be tolerated without a response of some kind from him or his family to that hateful Frodo Baggins.  
  
From where Lotho was, any conversation between Sam, Strider and him would go unnoticed by Frodo. Just like Bilbo wanted.  
  
"Thank you Mr Strider," Sam said in genuine thanks as he watched Lotho walk away. He was grateful to see that the Ranger was ready to assist his Master where possible. They needed to be more alert over the next few days and at the birthday celebration.  
  
"No need to thank me Sam, I have come to like your Master Mr Frodo, even in such a short time. I would not like to see him hurt or upset either," Strider said.  
  
From where they were standing, Sam and the Ranger could still see Frodo buried in his book under the tree, seemingly oblivious to anything going on around him after the stones stopped striking him.  
  
But after a few seconds another sound entirely could be heard coming towards them. It sounded like it was coming from the roadway rather than amongst the trees.  
  
Sam and Strider waited where they were to see if they could see what was coming. Frodo had also heard the noise. At first his brow had wrinkled as he too tried to listen more intently, trying to judge if what he was hearing could be true.  
  
When he was certain, Frodo jumped to his feet in excitement, and as he looked towards the roadway, Sam and the Ranger noted a large grin on the lad's handsome face. Recognition was obvious but before Sam could alert his Master to their presence nearby, he and Strider were both amazed to see Frodo now running as fast as he could towards the roadway.  
  
TO BE CONTINUED....  
  
I hope you are enjoying the story so far - getting longer and longer by the minute. I didn't think the breakfast scene would take this many words. I just kept adding bits and pieces to it.  
  
I apologize for any mistakes I may have made about LOTR history or any names I may have mis-spelled. I also hope that I have not wavered to far from people's takes on the individual personalities of each character.  
  
I don't mean to make Strider and Bilbo out as so secretive. I just want to keep the idea about the Wraiths coming until later in the story. The fact that Bilbo knows that danger is coming and doesn't do anything straight away is also not intentional and I humbly ask for readers to believe that's what happened.  
  
Any medicinal information is only from my own sources and not meant as true  
  
procedure to any injury or treatment that I may have used in my story so far or will in the future.  
  
As you have probably guessed, I leave this chapter at the place where Gandalf arrives in the movie and hope that the sequence of events that I have included is at least logical.  
  
Not much has happened yet. More to come. In next chapter, the party preparations take place that I envisaged happened prior in the movie. A few little incidents to come involving Lotho.  
  
I know the appearance of a big person in the Shire would be out of place too, but I need that to make the story work. I just need both people, elves, dwarves and hobbits everywhere to suspend what they know to be true for a while and take what I write as happening.  
  
I have also referred to Frodo as a boy in many parts - not intending for him to be called a human "boy" - just makes the story flow a little easier at times instead of constantly using "the hobbit" and similar descriptions.  
  
Any information that I write in my LOTR stories about eating flows on that in the two other fandoms I write - the main character in each all are finicky eaters and just push the food around on a plate or go for long lengths without anything to eat or refuse to do so. The other two are like this in all stories that I know about them as well. One other character also dislikes milk to the point of refusing to drink it - I am going to include this for Frodo later on - just something I dreamed up - nothing from the book or the movie. I hope I have not stepped on any toes or gone over anybody else's story line with this story. If so, please forgive me and I humbly apologize for intruding. I wanted to write a close relationship between Bilbo and Frodo as well as Frodo and Aragorn and Sam too.  
  
Last note - I am Australian - there will be spelling differences for a number of words. I write as I normally would in my own style and apologize if this offends anyone. Please keep reading despite these differences.  
  
Please review and let me know what you think. I will try and update as soon as I can, but please be patient as time is often not on my side.  
  
JULES 


	4. Gandalf's Arrival

ESCAPE THE DARKNESS

**By JULES**

**Authors Quick Note – **This story explores the idea about what might have happened if Strider had come to the Shire to forewarn Bilbo Baggins about the Ring Wraiths that would soon come hunting for the One Ring. Commences a few days before Bilbo's Birthday party and before Gandalf returns to the shire as well. 

Strider had vows to protect Bilbo when the Ring Wraiths are sent by the Dark Lord but he is unaware that the legacy of who is to carry the Ring to be destroyed falls upon a totally different Baggins hobbit. 

**Disclaimer -  I do not own any of these characters but enjoy writing them and their adventures together.**

**Gandalf's Arrival**

"Who does Frodo seek at such a pace?" Strider asked as he and Sam did their

best to catch up with the much quicker hobbit.

"I don't rightly know for sure, but I be thinking that it might be somebody coming

along the road in a wagon," Sam said, trying to talk and keep up with the Ranger's longer strides at the same time.

"For one small, your master is swift on his feet," Strider commented.  

The Ranger and Samwise lost sight of Frodo for a short time as the terrain dipped

into a grass covered gully.  The grass was very tall and often reached high enough

to tickle Sam's nose.  The fragrance was sweet though and the day was beginning to warm gently.  

As Strider and his hobbit companion came out of the dip, they ascended a small

grass covered hill where they saw Frodo standing.  The grass on this embankment

was an emerald shade of green and a little shorter than they had just run through.

Frodo stood beside the roadway, still listening for the approaching wagon.  He could  now hear distinct singing coming from the man driving the wagon.    The language used would be indecipherable to most of the Shire, even Frodo himself could not translate every verse he heard.

Strider and Sam were now standing only a short distance away from Frodo but did

not disturb him.   The Ranger could now see the wagon and its driver.   The man

was dressed in a long gray cloak that fell in deep folds about his body.  His hands

were visible beneath the long sleeves guiding the horse as they went.

The man's face was one of somebody who had seen much in his lifetime but had become stronger because of it.   The lines on his face were softened by his kind eyes and  gentle outer appearance.  The man's beard was a multitude of gray and white tones that were scarcely distinguishable from each other but blended together to match the man's long hair.

The man wore a large pointy hat that was made of the same fabric as his cloak and shimmered slightly in the dappled sunlight.

Frodo still had the smile on his face as he watched the wagon grow nearer.  He now tried to change his facial expression and stood in an almost demanding pose.  His  arms were folded in front of him as if waiting for an explanation and there was an expectant look about him.

_"You are late!" _Frodo accused.  The man was now pulling the wagon to a halt,

still avoiding eye contact with the young hobbit.

_"A wizard is never late Frodo Baggins………. nor is he early.  He arrives_

_precisely__ when he means to." came the quick reply._

Sam seemed to be holding his breath at the moment as he watched his master

and the wizard.   Both of them were now intently staring at each other, neither

one willing to give in first.

Strider found it most interesting that the young hobbit could show an almost

defiant attitude upon will.   When he had met the lad earlier he would have 

been mistaken to think the same thing back then.

The wizard found the corners of his mouth twitching first into a vague smile.

He efforts to make Frodo waver first were mostly in vain, though it seemed

now for long. 

Both wizard and hobbit now gave each other a genuine smile of friendship

before laughing heartily at each others stubbornness.   Sam silently released

the breath he had been holding and couldn't help but have a grin of his own

to see such pleasure on his masters face.

"_It's wonderful to see you again Gandalf," Frodo now exclaimed._

Before Sam could prevent it, with one leap, Frodo threw himself towards the wizard.    Gandalf had no trouble catching the hobbit with his free hand, the other still holding onto the horse's reins.   The wizard now cast the leather straps to one side and returned Frodo's show of affection with enthusiasm.  Both of them were enwrapped in an embrace: for the briefest of moments neither wanted to let go.

"And you too Frodo my dear lad," the wizard replied as he pulled away slightly from the hobbit and tried to look at how much he had changed since last they had spoken to each other.

"I was beginning to think you weren't going to be here until after Uncle Bilbo's birthday party," Frodo said.  The hobbit now sat on the bench beside Gandalf ready to travel together to Bag End.

Until now, Sam and Strider had remained in silence, not wanting to disturb the rekindling of friendship.   Frodo looked and was some what surprised to see the two standing there.  He had not noticed them before now.   His brow wrinkled slightly as he tried to ask himself how Sam had come to find him.    

Frodo could see a smile on each of their faces and he knew that they had taken quiet, reserved pleasure in seeing him happy.

"Have you two been following me?" he now asked, directing his question more at 

Sam than the Ranger.  Frodo knew that Sam would not be able to look him in the eye and give him a false answer.  There was an honesty about Samwise that Frodo had come to know a long time ago and trusted until this very minute.

"Sam was merely giving me a tour of your Shire Frodo," Ranger said, seeing

the conflicting emotions within the hobbit that stood beside him.  "We have seen

many things this morning.  Our paths cross again by chance and no other reason."

"Rangers I have been told Mr Strider are very resourceful people when they want

to," Gandalf said addressing the big person.  "You are no exception to that rule

and I suspect you have other motives for allowing our paths cross as you say."

"I am humbled by your knowledge Gandalf the Grey," Strider replied, a smile

in his eyes as he bowed towards the wizard.

"You two know each other Gandalf?" Frodo asked, seeing the same question on

Sam's face.  Up until just now, they had no indication that the wizard and the

Ranger had come across each other before.

"I have traveled many places in my time Frodo and so has Mr Strider.  While I have not known him as long as your dear Uncle Bilbo, his friendship has always been most welcomed.  It is truly a surprise to see him here now I must say." the wizard added, but the look on Gandalf's face towards the Ranger said otherwise.

"Begging your pardon Mr Frodo sir, but are you planning to travel back to Bag

End in that wagon with Mr Gandalf," Sam asked nervously.  He didn't quite know

how to come out and tell his master how uneasy the man made him feel at times.

Sam had come to know of Gandalf on his visits to Bilbo and Frodo.  The man had

always seemed to have an air of mystery about him that the gardener could never

explain in plain words.

"Would it be alright for Strider and Sam to travel back with us in your wagon

Gandalf?" Frodo asked.

"Yes of course it would be alright, though I think Strider might find it a bit cramped for room with his longer legs," Gandalf pointed out.

"Your horse travels at a very slow pace Gandalf.  Sam would probably benefit from the vehicle rather than I," the Ranger said.  Strider now helped Samwise into the back of the wagon.  

Sam worked his way to the front of the wagon, careful not to trod on any of the crates or other cargo that seemed to cover the entire floor.  There were a great many long poles poking out from underneath sheets of canvas.   All of the strange looking shaped items only seemed to make the hobbit more uneasy towards the wizard.  

Despite Strider's comments, Gandalf kept the horse's gait at a sluggish rate so that the Ranger would not have to keep to a faster pace.   From where Sam stood in the wagon he was directly behind his master Frodo, just where he preferred it.  At least he could keep a good eye on him from where he was positioned.

"You didn't really think I would miss your Uncle Bilbo's birthday party did you Frodo?" Gandalf asked, keeping the topic of conversation casual.

"_So how is the old rascal Bilbo.   I hear the party its going to be a party of special_

_magnificence__."_

_"You know Bilbo…. he's got the whole place in an uproar.  Half of the Shire_

_has__ been invited." Frodo informed Gandalf.  ___

"Don't be forgetting Mr Gandalf Sir that it is Mr Frodo's birthday party too," Sam said proudly.    He knew that most of the gossip about the Shire folk had been about how old Mr Bilbo was going to turn.   Sam was determined to make sure that Frodo's special day was not forgotten in all of the chaos and atmosphere.

"True Samwise, I had not forgotten our young Frodo's birthday.  A special day indeed, coming of age at last," Gandalf said, giving Frodo's shoulder a light pat.

"With all that has been happening lately, I wish it would just come and go without

any fuss," Frodo said openly.   "Uncle Bilbo has had nothing but visitors for the past two weeks after he sent out invitations.   Some of them are telling him of coming to the party.  Others are those folk who were either deliberately or mistakenly forgotten of the guest list."    

"I take it then that Bag End has not been quiet of late," Gandalf commented, puffing away with his long pipe as they traveled.

"Uncle Bilbo is getting more fidgety by the day.   Most of them have been decent enough to come at a suitable hour to utter their congratulations.   Then there are those directly involved with the preparations and cooking, telling Uncle what dishes he should be serving and what not to have.  But others who are a little upset at their being left out that they have little regard and often interrupt Bilbo's writing or studying," Frodo informed the wizard.   

Although Gandalf grinned slightly at the image formed in his mind of how Bilbo would be reacting to his quiet time being disturbed, he could see that Frodo cared enough for the old hobbit that he too would be a little stressed about the party preparations.

Strider remained silent during the trip to Bag End although Frodo had not tried to put any other meaning into his words, the Ranger couldn't help but think that he had only recently become one of those uninvited guests that turned up at odd hours.

"I hope your Uncle will invite me in once we arrive there."

"Oh you don't have to worry about that Gandalf, Uncle Bilbo has been looking forward to you coming for weeks now.    What he needs to worry about later on today is the arrival of my younger cousins, Merry and Pippin.   Uncle has agreed to let them stay with me at Bag End until after the party." 

"The appearance of those two should certainly be eventful," Gandalf said.  He had met Frodo's cousins many times before, but because of their age and immaturity, together they had a tendency to cause trouble whether they were to blame or not.   They usually took to playing practical jokes on unsuspecting folk which would backfire and only leave a mess to clean up or an explanation to be forthcoming.

"I am looking forward to them coming," Frodo said as he thought about his cousins.  He knew what the wizard was terming as "eventful" but nevertheless at least they would someone familiar to him at the party.  Frodo was a little nervous about the sheer number of relations that Bilbo had invited that he had never met before. 

"Let's talk about something else Gandalf," Frodo suggested.  "I want to get away from all this chatter about parties and birthdays.  It gives me a headache at times just thinking about what has to be done today and tomorrow."

Sam now looked intently at his master, to see any signs of the headache that Frodo spoke about.    He promised himself that he would make sure that Mr Frodo was relaxed a little by tomorrow.

_"What news have you from the outside world?" _Frodo asked with anticipation clearly in his words.   The young hobbit was happy with his life in the Shire but often wondered what other places and peoples he would meet if he traveled outside it's boundaries.

Whilst Sam had noted on a number of occasions his desire to stay in the Shire for what he perceived the foreseeable future, Frodo could not deny that often he had dreams about leaving for a time in search of a purpose in life.

"What do you wish to hear about Frodo?" 

_"Tell me everything!" _Frodo stated matter of factly.   

_"Everything…….. you become too curious for your own good my boy.  It is an unnatural trait for a hobbit such as yourself be so eager to know," _Gandalf said with a light-hearted chuckle.   The wizard had always known Frodo to convey a thirst for knowledge and learning.  He would promote such a fine characteristic in one so eager, not thwart it for the sake of what others considered unusual or strange.

_"What can I tell you my young friend, is that life in the wide world goes on much as it has this past age, full of its own comings and goings, scarcely aware of the existence of hobbits, for which I am very thankful."_

Gandalf couldn't how thankful he was that it was the case.   In the past couple of weeks he had become increasingly concerned with matters that were beginning to appear that were best left alone and untouched.  The appearance of the Ranger here today in the Shire only seemed to add to his concern that such matters would not remain hidden for very much longer.

Frodo now looked back towards Sam and smiled at his friend.  His eyes drifted towards the large amount of stuff that was laying in the wagon.  Curiosity got the better of him as well, but he was confident enough to voice this to the wizard.

"What are you planning to do with all that you have brought Gandalf?" Frodo enquired.

"Nothing to worry about Frodo, just a little entertainment for the Shire folk as I promised your Uncle Bilbo." Gandalf said, giving the hobbit a sly wink.

"Why do I get the feeling that Merry and Pippin are not the only ones to be planning something?  Seeing as you and Uncle Bilbo have been down that path before Gandalf," Frodo said with a grin.

_"Before your last "little bit of entertainment" Uncle Bilbo and I were very well_

_thought__ of in the Shire," Frodo said, knowing that such a statement wasn't entirely true.  __"We Bagginses never had any adventures or did anything unexpected." _

Unfortunately for Frodo, being heir to Bilbo Baggins left him with not only the older hobbit's possessions, but also his labels of stranger and unusual even before the Shire folk had gotten a chance to meet him and make a judgment themselves.

Shire folk were inclined to talk amongst themselves about matters that didn't concern them or they had very little information about.   The appearance of strangers like Gandalf to Bag End over the years had continued to fuel the gossip and only confirmed to the folk what they had been told by others.

_"If you are referring to the incident with the Dragon, I was barely involved.  All I_

_did__ was give your uncle a little nudge………." Gandalf explained, not wanting to go back into the sordid details of that most memorable of visits._

"And as for adventures my dear boy, your Uncle Bilbo might have led a quieter existence for the best part of forty years, but there was a time when that hobbit could never stay in one place for his feet to take root," Gandalf said.

"_Whatever you did, you have been officially labeled a disturber of the peace." Frodo said, trying his hardest to keep a straight and serious face, but soon failing and giving a little grin at the memory._

Frodo thought for a few seconds, not really confident about how to approach the next topic of conversation.__

"I think Bilbo is up to something as well," Frodo said, the words being more of a question to the wizard rather than a statement.  

The hobbit knew that his Uncle and Gandalf had spoken often and in great detail about the comings and goings of each other.  Maybe Frodo couldn't talk to Bilbo about what he had over heard the night before with Strider, but he might be able to gain some clues as to the truth through Gandalf.

Strider listened to Frodo's words with interest.   He could hear an almost suspicious nature from the young hobbit.  For not only the first or second time today, the Ranger found himself wondering about what thoughts 

"_Really?"__ Gandalf replied in mock surprise.   It was obvious to the wizard that Frodo knew much more about his Uncle than Bilbo realized.  He would have to have a quiet word to his old friend before the party began tomorrow._

"_Keep your secrets then." Frodo answered, a little disappointment in his voice that Gandalf was unwilling to shed any light on the subject._

"I will see you back at Bag End soon," Frodo said now as he readied himself to get down from the wagon and continue on his own way.   "I will meet you and Sam back at Bag End before lunch," he added, trying to hide the weight that his thoughts were putting upon his heart.

"But Mr Frodo you can't…… " Sam wanted to protest.    

To his dismay though his master was already heading through the trees on the other side.  From where he stood in the wagon, he was unable to get down quickly enough to join Frodo.  

"I think Frodo would rather think on his own for a while Sam," Gandalf said, placing a reassuring hand on the hobbit's shoulder, urging him to remain in the wagon until they reached Bilbo's home.

"_He is going to have to tell him………," Gandalf said to himself, audible enough for Sam and Strider to overhear.   _

******************************************************

Frodo had walked away from Gandalf's wagon, but as soon as he was out of sight, the hobbit found himself running through the long grass and the trees.   He felt slightly cross with himself for leaving so abruptly and silently berated himself for doing so, hoping that the wizard would understand and Sam wouldn't be too upset.

His thoughts about the conversation he had overheard the night before between the Ranger Strider and his Uncle had re-ignite his fears about Bilbo leaving Bag End and the Shire.

The sudden reappearance of Gandalf to the area only made Frodo more unsettled about what the next few days would bring.  Maybe Bilbo planned to leave after his birthday with the wizard.   

Frodo could scarcely bare the ache in his heart if his Uncle did leave.  Tears had begun welling in his eyes about being left alone once more.  Although it had been some years since his parents had left him, the feeling of abandonment didn't take long to renew the seed of doubt in his mind.

Running allowed the tears to fall without being noticed by anybody else.  There was a  sense of freedom that couldn't be ignored.  Before he even realized it, Frodo had run the better of half a mile.     He came to a halt and forced himself to take slow deep breaths in order to try and quell both the negative feelings he was experiencing as well as the exertion that fast running had placed upon his body.

Frodo waited until he felt calm enough again and more composed.   Putting away the fears that had resurfaced, he started to make his way back towards Bag End.  If he delayed his return any longer, Sam would surely worry unnecessarily and come looking.

_back__ at Bag End………………._

Gandalf, Strider and Sam were now arriving at Bag End.    Sam got down from the wagon and offered to help unhitch the horse and put both the horse and wagon away safely until they were needed further.

While Sam went about these tasks, Strider and Gandalf approached the gateway to Bilbo's home.   The wizard observed the signage on the gate that Strider had seen the night before and chuckled to himself that the old hobbit's personality seemed unchanged despite his age.

Gandalf now proceeded to knock on the door using the bottom end of the staff he carried with him.

_"No thank you………. we don't want any more visitors, well-wishers or distant _

_relations__," came a voice from inside.  The wizard chuckled slightly as he heard the statement, assuming that Bilbo was speaking on Frodo's behalf a little when he mentioned "we"._

_"What about very old friends?" _Gandalf now said through the closed door.  

There was a distinct silence for a few seconds before the rounded doorway slowly 

opened.   Bilbo walked forward to see that the sun wasn't deceiving his eyes.

"_Gandalf?" the old hobbit said, scarcely able to believe who he saw standing before him.   _

Until today there had been the smallest notion that the wizard would have more

prevailing matters to attend to than a birthday party, even one celebrating one hundred and eleven years.

_"Bilbo Baggins……………." _Gandalf said as he greeted his long-time friend with 

an embrace.  _"You haven't aged a day……….. he added, noting that the hobbit carried his years excessively better than others.   The old hobbit's eyes had a gentle and kind appearance about them and his genuine smile shone through at meeting his old friend once more.  _

"Oh I see you have met up with Strider," Bilbo said as he saw the Ranger standing nearby.  Bilbo now looked around for any sign of the younger companions that had journeyed out earlier that morning.

"Where is Frodo and Sam?" Bilbo enquired.

"Frodo and I have already spoken.  I must say that he has matured much since I had the pleasure of talking to him.   He informed me that he would be along shortly.  Sam has kindly offered to attend to my wagon and horse to aid a weary traveler." Gandalf explained.

_"Come in come in………. where are my manners.  Welcome, welcome.   Can I offer you some tea Gandalf, or something a little stronger?" _Bilbo asked.  "Would you join us as well Strider, it is almost time for elevensies."

"_Tea thank you," Gandalf said as he ducked his head and entered the smial.   _

The Ranger noted that the wizard had to show just as much caution as he when walking through the lower ceilings.  He had already avoided a few nasty knocks to the head by mere fractions of an inch and quick reflexes.

"I would prefer tea as well Bilbo," Strider said, answering the hobbit's question.

"_I've got a few bottles of the Old Winyards left…………. 1296, a very good year._

_Almost as old as I am.__  It was laid down by my father." Bilbo said as his two guests disappeared from sight temporarily as they took a different route to the kitchen._

_"Just tea thank you" _Gandalf repeated as he and the Ranger sat down and waited

patiently as Bilbo bustled about his kitchen, pouring hot water from a pot into the

teapot position on the table.

Gandalf noted that due to the fact that Frodo and his companion Sam had yet to

return, now might be a good time to approach the subject about Bilbo's intention

to leave the Shire.   It had caused him a much concern to see the flickering emotions on Frodo's face just a short time ago.

Before Gandalf had a chance to mention any concerns, there was another loud knock at the door.   Bilbo up until then had been standing near a window, but upon hearing the knock at the front door, shrunk back into the shadows that the walls provided,  hoping that he wouldn't be spotted.

_"I am not at home" _Bilbo said out loud, forgetting that he had just alerted to person outside that he was indeed at home.

_"I have got to get away from these confounded relatives.  Hanging on the bell all day, never giving me a moment's peace." _once again confirming some of the comments  Frodo had mentioned earlier about the steady stream of unwanted visitors to Bag End recently.

The tea was now poured and Strider and the wizard remained silent as they watched the old hobbit move back and forth from the window, almost nervous as he spoke.  Bilbo knew that this was the conversation that he had meant to continue with the Ranger from the previous night, as so continued.

_"I want to see mountains again……… mountains Gandalf!    And then find somewhere quiet where I can finish my book." _Bilbo said, now ceasing his pacing back and forth and forcing himself to remain still by sitting on a chair at the table and facing the truth he had been trying to avoid for some time.

_"So you mean to go through with your plans then?" _the wizard asked cautiously, not wanting to put words into the hobbit's mouth if he had not yet come to such a decision.

_"Yes yes, it's all in hand.   All of the arrangements have been made.  I was only telling Strider the same thing only late last night." Bilbo replied, but there was a air of uncertainty in his voice and an air of sadness as he came to realization of what he had decided to do._

"_Frodo suspects something……….." Gandalf said, trying to put the subject as delicately as possible to his friend._

"He does?" Bilbo responded, already suspecting such to be the case.  "Yes I suppose he might think something is going on the way I have been acting lately.  He probably feels like I have been trying to avoid him."

_"You will tell him soon won't you………. _before it's too late," Gandalf said, hoping the hobbit understood how urgent it was becoming.

_"Yes …….. I will," _Bilbo said, pausing a little as he answered.  "How do I do that

Gandalf, without hurting him?  Frodo has got such a gentle nature about him.  Kindest lad I have ever come across.  What will it do to him to learn that I am leaving?"

"It would hurt him more for you to leave without telling him first Bilbo," Gandalf

said, seeing the emotions play out across the hobbit's face like a clearly visible stain. _"He is very fond of you."_

"As I am of him Gandalf, as I am.   I cannot put into words what that lad has come to mean to me over the years.   For years and years all I did was sit here in my study writing about my travels, without anybody to share them with other than my ink and paper."

_"He would probably come with me if I asked him."_

"Do you think that is what Frodo wants to do with his life?" Gandalf asked, genuinely interested in Frodo's future well being.

_"I think, in his heart, Frodo is still in love with the Shire, the woods, the fields, little rivers……….." _Bilbo replied.

"I have no right to do that to Frodo Gandalf.   The lad came here with only uncertainty after his parents death.   Living here at Bag End, I tried to change all that by trying to give him all the love, understanding and patience I could find.  I wanted to give him all the love that his parents would have shed upon him as well as my own." 

"Frodo is older now and more confident in his own self.  He has friends that think the world of him, especially Samwise.   He now has familiarity and firm connections with the Shire and those in it.  I wouldn't feel right asking him to give all of that up just for me and my wandering ways.  It wouldn't be fair to Frodo."

_"I am old Gandalf.   I know you think I don't look it but I am beginning to feel it in my heart." _Bilbo said feeling a little daunted by his own admission.

_"I need a holiday, a very long holiday.  I don't expect I shall return, in fact I mean not to……………" _Bilbo said a sense of finality about the trip he was preparing to take.

The conversation did not continue much further as the three of them pondered on all that had been said.   Both Strider and Gandalf couldn't help but think of what mixed emotions Frodo might experience over the next couple of days.

Samwise had just been making his way back from finishing stabling the horse and putting away the wagon until the next day, when he saw Frodo approaching from the opposite direction.

To his surprise, Frodo looked as though he had been running.  His master sounded a little out of breath and looked a little tired.  "Hello Mr Frodo, are you alright?"

"Yes Sam, thank you." Frodo said as he forced his breathing to be deeper and slower.  The brisk run had been invigorating and helped him over come some of the fears he held about his uncle's possible departure.    "I was running through the trees," he admitted to his friend, who looked a little worried about him.

"Let's go inside and get something to drink and eat then, Mr Frodo," Sam suggested, a little perplexed as to why his master would be running in the first place.   Sam knew that Frodo enjoyed daily walks and exercise but he couldn't see a purpose to making himself out of breath unless there was a reason to.    

Frodo and Sam opened the door and walked inside to the kitchen where Gandalf and the others were still drinking their tea.

"We are back Uncle Bilbo," Frodo said.   

"Did you enjoy the weather outside Frodo my dear boy?" Bilbo asked, trying to push aside any of his earlier thoughts. 

"Yes uncle, but I feel as though I might have spent too much time out there this day," Frodo admitted, putting his hand to his temple and rubbing slightly at a headache that was beginning to form.

"Why is that Frodo?" Bilbo asked, noting his nephew's actions.

"I did a lot of running back to here just now and I have a headache beginning.   Maybe that or it is from too much sunshine overhead whilst I was reading earlier," Frodo now stated.

"Well running is good for you, but I hope you have not over done things.  Why don't you go and sit on the comfortable settee and I will bring your cup of tea when I have made a fresh pot.  Sam can help me and I will put a few leaves in it to help ease your headache," Bilbo said gently, putting a hand on the lad's shoulder in an affectionate gesture.

"If is alright with you Uncle, I might have the tea in my room whilst I do some quiet study.   I really think it was the running and not the reading that is the cause of the problem.   It might help relax me along with the tea and go away," Frodo said.

"Alright Frodo, let me know if you need anything else.  Once I have finished with

this tea, Sam and I can start on luncheon.   Your cousins are due to arrive very 

shortly and the first thing they will be looking for apart from you is food," Bilbo

said.

"Let me know when Merry and Pippin arrive will you please Sam.  Please excuse me Gandalf and Mr Strider," Frodo said as he turned towards his room and a little quiet time.

"Of course Mr Frodo," Sam answered immediately, only to happy to help out as 

requested.

Strider and Gandalf both responded to the boy's beautiful manners and hoped that

his headache would not last too long.   There was something about the lad that

just made others warm up to him immediately and his honesty and sincerity were

charms that he certainly possessed in abundance. 

"You can take his tea in to him in a minute Sam," Bilbo said to the younger hobbit, seeing the frown of his face.  Sam was being pulled in opposite directions at the moment, wanting to be with his master when he wasn't feeling one hundred percent and the other direction because of his respect of Frodo's privacy and need for solitude when studying.

Studying was something that Bilbo had never had to press on the lad, even from the very beginning.   Frodo seemed to drink up every book that the older hobbit had in his library and had a thirst for knowledge to match.  Bilbo had taught Frodo to speak a limited amount of Elvish language and how to form the various symbol representations in writings and songs.

Once Frodo had a grasp of the subject material, he had taken it upon himself to further his own education through self-teaching methods.   The lad preferred to do this alone for varying amounts of time, some days for hours on end, on other days, all but a few minutes before going to sleep at night to help him relax after a long day outside.

After a few minutes, Bilbo announced that Frodo's tea was ready and Sam was more than willing to take it to his master if only to use it as an alibi to see if he still suffered from the headache.

Sam knocked respectfully on the door before hearing a quiet "Come In" from the other side and entering Frodo's bedroom.

Frodo was seated at his study desk, with a large book open in front of him and another standing up leaning against the window.  He seemed to be practicing his writing skills and master the fine strokes needed to form the letters and symbols.

Sam put his master's cup of tea down close enough for him to reach but far enough away to prevent it accidentally spilling on Frodo's hard work.    Sam couldn't help but watch his master write with a slight twinge of envy.   Frodo's small hand made his grip on the quill quite tight to allow more control.  The strokes were small but accurate and the page itself was very neat indeed.

Frodo now looked up from his work briefly and smiled at his friend, then reaching for the tea with his still bandaged hand.   

"You have beautiful writing if you don't mind me saying so Mr Frodo," Sam said 

honestly.  "My fingers could never hold still long enough without smudging what I have already done," he added, thinking back to past efforts when Frodo had been more than willing to be Sam's tutor.

"Thank you Sam, although I am grateful that my writing hand wasn't the one that was scalded by the hot water or I fear that I would not be able to write at all today."

"Does your headache still give you pain Mr Frodo?" Sam found himself asking.

"Actually Sam, it has eased considerably even after only such a brief time.   Maybe it is the tea that is helping me relax after all."

"Would you like something to eat, luncheon should be ready very shortly?" Sam asked, hoping Frodo would accept.

Frodo could see the hopefulness in Sam's eyes that he would agree to something to eat.   He found himself not being able to refuse the offer.  "I am getting a little hungry Sam, lunch would be nice as soon as it's ready."

Sam smiled broadly and went off to make sure that everything was just right for his master.   Frodo watched his friend leave and then turned back to his books for a little while longer.  He doubted that he would have much time tomorrow or the day after to indulge in such personal escapes.

Strider and Gandalf engaged in quiet, non-committal conversation as Bilbo and Sam went about preparing lunch for all.

Just before it was ready, there was a knock at the door, which Bilbo went to answer, muttering as he went, hoping it was not yet another visitor.

When he opened the door, he was somewhat delighted and relieved at who was present.  He was met by the smiling faces of Meriadoc and Peregrin, bursting full of energy and barely able to keep still even as they waited to be invited in.

"Merry and Pippin, my dear lads, how are you and won't you come in," Bilbo said allowing them entry to Bag End.  The two hobbits had a small suitcase each as they entered, taking in the sights and smells of Bilbo's home.

Sam came forth and greeted Mr Frodo's cousins.  "How was your trip masters?  I will see to your bags and put them in the guest rooms," he said, remembering duty had to come before enjoying their company.

"Hello Sam, we are fine thanks and hello to you too Uncle," Merry said in a loud

voice, speaking for his younger cousin Pippin as well.

"Lunch is almost ready, you can join us in a minute," Bilbo said, already noting the delight that came to the youngest cousin's face at such a statement.  It was no secret that Peregrin was always hungry and ready to eat, no matter how long ago the last meal had been.  There was always room for more Pippin had told his Uncle once.

"Where is Frodo?" Merry now asked, eager to see his older cousin again as he looked about the rooms for any sign of the dark-haired hobbit.

"He's in his room studying a little before lunch.  He said he had a slight headache and wished to relax a little before you arrived," Bilbo said, hoping that would be enough of a deterrent for the two younger cousins to wait patiently until Frodo appeared on his own accord.

Merry and Pippin weren't to be discouraged though, and both looked at each other

and grinned devilishly that they knew of an alternative way to get Frodo's attention without going to knock on his bedroom door.

"Come on Pip," Merry said as the two left Sam holding their luggage and dashing back out the front door and around the side of the smial.

"They won't do anything too terrible to Mr Frodo will they Master Bilbo?" Sam asked, a little worried about the two cousins who always seemed to have too much energy for their own good.   They were always up to something.

"I shouldn't think so Sam," Bilbo said, putting a reassuring hand on the lad's shoulder.  "Frodo has been looking forward to them coming.  He will put them straight if they look like getting out of control," he added, knowing that Frodo often took on responsibility for his younger cousins whenever they visited. 

In the past such loyalty had often landed Frodo in as much trouble as Merry and Pippin, but the happiness and laughter that the two cousins brought to Frodo couldn't be replaced and Bilbo was often most grateful for that.

"Studying!" Merry said as he and Pippin moved around the side of the dwelling.  Sometimes Frodo was too studious for his own good.  Time to break that habit and get his cousin having some fun again.

Merry and Pippin could now see the window that belonged to Frodo's bedroom. They could see a book of some description leaning up the bottom half of the glass and the older cousin immediately had a giggle of an idea about how to alert Frodo to his presence.  No doubt they would scare him senseless, but they would have fun nevertheless.

Merry motioned for Pippin to sneak up beside the window frame like he and peer

secretly through the glass.   Both of them could see Frodo's dark head bent forward as he continued what he was doing.  

It took a few more minutes than Merry would have liked, but eventually they were rewarded with Frodo's casual glance towards his book and spotting two faces leering back at him through the glass.

Frodo had been concentrating on the book but was startled by the faces at his window and tried to jump backwards away from the window.  Unfortunately for Frodo, his chair was still behind him and now both he and the chair fell backwards, knocking the cup of tea from the desk as well as the ink pot.   It wasn't until after this that he recognized who the faces belonged to.

"Merry and Pippin!" Frodo said in a mock annoyed voice as he surveyed the image of himself sprawled on the floor and the congealing mess not to far away on the rug of the ink and tea mixing together.

The two cousins had seen Frodo tumble backwards but knew he wasn't hurt.  They now made their way back around to the front door, hoping that neither Bilbo or Frodo would be too upset at their antics.

Sam had overheard his master's startled cry as he fell backwards and couldn't help but open the door to see if everything was alright.  He immediately went to Frodo's aid of helping him stand, he too concerned about the now black stain marring the rug.

"Are you alright Mr Frodo?" Sam said, seeing that the bandage on Frodo's hand

had also been stained by the ink.  Looking upon his master's clothes, they hadn't

faired much better and there was now a soaking blackened mark across the front

of Frodo's vest and trousers.

"Yeah I am fine thank you Sam," Frodo said, trying hard not to laugh at how he

must look at the moment.   "Those two cousins of mine……." he said, a smile creeping across his face.

"Frodo," Merry said in a quiet voice behind Sam, the two cousins standing just outside the doorway, hoping to apologize for their behaviour.

"Just look at this mess you too created," Frodo said sternly, the corners of his mouth twitching with a grin.   Sam was sighing in relief that Frodo's writing had not been spoilt by the ink.   It seemed that the floor and Frodo himself wore most of what was spilt.

"We will clean it up cousin, promise," Pippin now said, feeling a little guilty as he

looked at the spreading stain on Frodo's clothes.  

"Offering to do manual work now are you Pip, that's certainly good to hear.  Though I don't think you sound like my cousin Peregrin Took," Frodo said already seeing that they were remorseful for their childish actions.

"It's great to see you Merry and Pip," Frodo now said and gave his cousins a warm greeting.   "I really wanted that cup of tea though," he poked in fun.

"I'll get you another cup Mr Frodo," Sam offered. 

"That's alright Sam, just let me get into some clean clothes and clear a bit of this

mess on the floor and then we can go and see if lunch is ready," knowing that Pip 

wouldn't be needing a second invitation.

"I will get a little sugar from Master Bilbo to sprinkle over that stain.  The sugar

crystals should soak up most of the ink and then it can just be swept into pile and

thrown away," Sam said, explaining a little about what his mother had taught him

about how to remove difficult stains from things.

"What about my clothes Sam, you don't expect to sprinkle sugar over me to get

the ink out do you?" Frodo said with a laugh.

"Oh no sir," Sam said returning the grin to his master as such an idea.  "But I can

put it into a bucket of water laced with lemon and vinegar and that will certainly

have your clothes looking nice again."

"Dear Sam, you always have a solution for me when I am in need," Frodo said.

"I hope so Mr Frodo," Sam said proudly that his master thought so highly of him.

Half an hour after Merry and Pippin announced their arrival to Frodo and everyone else, all were seated at the table now enjoying a leisurely lunch and gentle conversation.

Introductions had been made of Strider, though Merry seemed to be a little wary of the Ranger at first.   Pip had been awed by the man's height but gave a small smile and made sure that he sat safely on the other side of his cousin Frodo.

Sam had been about to excuse himself when Frodo asked that he stay and join them.  Bilbo had also voiced that he wished for Samwise to join them at the table as had  the two cousins.   Sam felt himself out numbered and although he had been taught to mind his betters and remember his place, he had also been taught to be there as often as Frodo wanted him to be.

Sam couldn't put into words how good he felt when Mr Frodo treated him no differently to other adults around him or indeed his own relatives such as Merry and Pippin.

Strider had not wanted to add to any fear that the two cousins might have over his presence but marveled at how quickly the two seemed to forget their apprehensions and include him in their conversations around the table.

Pippin had gone into great detail about the scare that he and Merry had given Frodo a short time before and how Frodo had fallen off his chair and been smeared in ink and warm tea.   

After hearing about this, Gandalf promised himself that he would need to keep a closer eye on the two mischief's and keep them out of trouble as much as possible before the party.  

"You should have seen your face Frodo," Pippin said with a giggle, remembering the startled look his older cousin had moments before toppling backwards.

"Don't worry Pippin, my revenge will be swift and silent but most of all unexpected," Frodo said in a voice so low that the younger hobbit believed every word.   He couldn't help but bait them a little and keep them guessing about what he might do to get back at them.

"You wouldn't…….." Pippin said in shock.  In all the time he had known Frodo, he had never seen his dark-haired cousin retaliate for any of the mischief that they had caused.  "He wouldn't do anything would he Merry?" he now asked, seeking a little confirmation from his partner in crime.

Merry too was a little surprised at Frodo's statement, and both had an ominous feeling as they watched their secretive cousin smile sweetly back at them.  They would have thought Frodo's comments to be baseless except for the gleam that they saw in his blue eyes.   

Strider and Gandalf laughed at the sight of the two now uneasy and nervous cousins that kept looking back and forth between themselves and Frodo.  He certainly knew had to get them on edge without any effort at all.

Merry had already asked why the Ranger was present, before receiving a painful kick to his shin under the table for not remembering his manners in somebody else's house.

Bilbo had not been concerned over what he saw was Merry's natural curiosity and

gave him the same explanation as that to Sam earlier at breakfast about possible

trouble presenting itself at the party.

Lunch had then continued for a time.  Gandalf had asked that Strider and Bilbo assist him to unload his wagon of surprises after they had eaten and was pleased that his friends had readily agreed.

That would leave the four hobbits on their own but that didn't present itself as such a problem.   Sam had already offered to clear the lunch dishes so that Bilbo could go with Gandalf.

Bilbo had gotten up from the table towards the end of the meal and begun pouring

milk into glasses for the four hobbits.   He had been thinking of something else at

the time and before realizing it, had half-filled Frodo's glass with the white liquid.

Frodo's displeasure was clearly evident on his face as he scowled at the substance 

in the glass as though it were a vile medicine he was being asked to drink.

"You don't expect me to drink that stuff do you Uncle Bilbo?" Frodo asked still

eyeing the milk with distain.   

"Oh I am sorry Frodo, I wasn't thinking.  No of course not.  I know you don't like

milk.   I will get you a fresh glass of juice or tea if you would prefer?" Bilbo said

apologetically.    

"I'll drink it Frodo," Pippin said and grabbed at the glass before any reply could

be given.  

Sam glared at the hobbit a little, thinking that he was being very rude, but then relenting a little at Pippin's enthusiasm.  He knew that Frodo wouldn't drink the milk anyway but he could have been more polite about it.

"I take it you do not like to drink milk Frodo," Strider said, noting the hobbit's obvious dislike.

"No, Mr Strider, there isn't any threat that anyone could make that would force me to drink that stuff," Frodo affirmed.

It was about now that Frodo noted how tired he was suddenly becoming.  The headache that had eased earlier was beginning to resurface and he no longer had an appetite for his remaining lunch.

"I think it's about time we headed out to help Gandalf," Bilbo now stated.  "How about you go and have a little lay down inside Frodo," he suggested, noting his nephew grimacing slightly from the headache again.

"I might just do that Uncle Bilbo," Frodo agreed, thinking that a nice soft pillow would be more than welcome at this point in time.

"What are we going to do if you are going to be boring and rest?" Merry said, not knowing about Frodo's headache.  Staying still for too long didn't appeal to either

Merry or Pippin.

"I think you and Pippin would be best suited to helping young Sam here clean up the dishes don't you?" Bilbo said, not accepting no for an answer.   "You can go out and play later on after your lunch has settled some."

Merry and Pippin were not entirely happy with this idea, but though they had little

choice since they would be staying under Bilbo's roof for the next few days.   

Sam was happy to see Bilbo take a little control of the situation and vowed that the two hobbits would keep their voices and games to a minimum if Mr Frodo was going to try and rest to ease his headache.

"We shan't be long," Bilbo said, noting the slightly disappointed looks on his visitors.  "By the time you finish helping Sam we should have returned.  Frodo can choose if he feels like going out or not later."

Gandalf, Strider and Bilbo now prepared to leave and go to the wagon.  Frodo had gotten up from the table and retrieved a pillow from his own bed before settling onto the settee in the sitting room.   Somehow he didn't like the idea of leaving Merry and Pippin unsupervised despite Sam being present.

Bilbo went to check on his nephew before walking out the door but was relieved to see Frodo already stretched out with his eyes closed attempting to doze off.   He brushed a stray curl away from the lad's forehead and smiled.   

Frodo smiled at the touch but didn't open his eyes.   Seeing his nephew's face relaxed and carefree in sleep was something he could never tire of.   

"Keep an eye on him for me Sam won't you," Bilbo said to Sam who saw them off at the door, out of earshot from Frodo.

"Don't worry Master Bilbo, I'll make sure he's not disturbed," Sam said.  Little did Sam know that his best efforts would not prove enough against Merry and Pippin.

After the others had left, Merry and Pippin had did as they were asked and for a time went about helping Sam as best they could.   Their interest quickly waned though and the two hobbits soon found it more fun to play games with the plates and cutlery rather than drying then and putting them back in their rightful places.

Merry and Pippin were unaware that their game was beginning to get a little loud

until they were harshly chastised by Sam to keep quiet.    The sitting room was only a short distance away and Sam could see his master stirring slightly from the noise.

Merry and Pip put the dishes away as requested but although one game was quickly at an end, there was always another around the corner.    Sam had now decorated the table with a large bowl of fruit.   Apples and oranges, pears and grapes.  

Pippin was most impressed and would have tucked in if he hadn't been so full after lunch.    He took two apples from the bowl and started to play around with them, tossing them into the air and catching them again. 

It didn't take much encouragement for Merry to join in and soon instead of throwing them up and catching them, they were tossing them backwards and forwards between each other.

Pippin had now taken a few steps away from his cousin to increase the distance of

the throws, not taking any notice of which room he was standing in.  The lack of

walls in Bilbo's home often made it difficult to tell which room was which.

Pippin was now standing directly in front of his slumbering cousin Frodo on the settee. He wasn't making any excessive noise at present and Sam was forced to hold back any scathing words he might have had on the tip on his tongue.

Merry tossed a large apple at his younger cousin, but his throw was not as accurate as he hoped.  A little too high and it sailed over Pippin's head.

Merry and Pippin both cringed as they heard the unmistakable sound of the apple

hitting Frodo. 

Frodo woke with a fright and immediately sat up rubbing the his forehead.  There

was no mark but he looked at his two cousins, demanding to know why they were

throwing pieces of fruit at him while he was trying to sleep.

If Merry and Pippin thought they could get any sympathy out of Samwise, they were gravely mistaken as they heard his shocked intake of breath as he watched the apple strike his sleeping master and then see Frodo sitting up with a frown on his face.

It was about this time that Gandalf and the others proceeded to walk through the 

front door.   They heard Sam's angry outburst and wondered what had happened to rile the normally gentle tempered hobbit.    

When they entered the sitting room where the noise was ensuing from, they were

greeted with Merry and Pippin looking very guilty about something and Sam

threatening to do them bodily harm.   

Frodo was by now wide awake again and trying not to laugh at Sam's serious face.  His headache seemed to have eased to a barely noticeable level once again but he was not impressed by the way he had been woken.

"_RUN" was the suggestion that the two cousins said to each other with their eyes, a little afraid of being in the middle of both an angry Sam and a cross looking Frodo._

TO BE CONTINUED……………………..

There was so much I wanted to include in this chapter – but it just kept getting longer and longer.   

In case anybody is wondering – the darkness is coming – eventually – the Nazguls had to take a packed lunch to get there and took the wrong exit on the freeway.

I have used a fair bit of movie content in this part – those I have used are in "_italics" even if I have only added a word or to for the sentence to make sense.   Some are a little out of sequence to the movie but I switched the order to suit my own purposes._

There will start to be a few little abilities that Frodo's displays that are not taken very seriously at the moment.  Most of them seem barely noticeable but will play various roles of important as this story progresses and in the later ones.   The idea that Frodo could run fast is the first.   There will be a further two mentioned in the next chapter.

The next chapter will include the preparations for the party, some mischief involving Merry, Pippin and Gandalf.   A little bit of hurt for Frodo (not serious) and some light-hearted revenge for Frodo against his cousins.   

I am going to try and make Frodo as complicated as possible using his emotions and feelings over the next few chapters.   There will be parts of his personality that others never knew existed and this will definitely continue onto later chapters and stories.

Thank you to all that reviewed that last part – I really do appreciate the kind comments and encouragement.   I hope you all keep reading and enjoying the story.

JULES


	5. Trees and Elves

ESCAPE THE DARKNESS

**By JULES**

**Authors Quick Note – **This story explores the idea about what might have happened if Strider had come to the Shire to forewarn Bilbo Baggins about the Ring Wraiths that would soon come hunting for the One Ring. Commences a few days before Bilbo's Birthday party and before Gandalf returns to the shire as well. 

Strider had vows to protect Bilbo when the Ring Wraiths are sent by the Dark Lord but he is unaware that the legacy of who is to carry the Ring to be destroyed falls upon a totally different Baggins hobbit. 

**Disclaimer -  I do not own any of these characters but enjoy writing them and their adventures together.**

**Trees and Elves**

Much to the relief of Merry and Pippin, Strider was the one to save them from the

wrath of Samwise and the annoyed expressions from Gandalf and Bilbo.

"Are you sure you are alright Mr Frodo?" Sam asked making sure that the apple

had not struck hard enough to leave a mark.

"Yes thank you Sam," Frodo said, getting off the couch to testify to what he was

saying.   Frodo now got himself a cool drink of water.

"Has you headache eased at all Frodo lad?" Bilbo asked, noting that being struck

on the head by an object may have caused the pain to lengthen in duration.

"Actually it has, but only slightly most probably due to the shortness of my nap," 

Frodo said, giving at disapproving look at his two younger cousins once again.

"If I may make a suggestion for the afternoon," Strider interjected.  "I will gladly

take all of the young hobbits outside if it were to only allow Bilbo and Gandalf

more time to talk or prepare for tomorrow's celebrations."

"Would you do that Strider?" Bilbo asked, grateful that the Ranger would offer 

to keep them occupied and out of Bag End if only for a few hours.   "Of course

if Frodo or Samwise wishes to stay I am certain that they would not disturb us."

"Thank you Strider, I would appreciate going back out doors on such a nice day 

outside.  A little more fresh air may be greatly beneficial and welcome," Frodo

said, pleased that the man was taking such an active interest in himself and his

cousins.  

"I'll be coming with you to Mr Frodo," Sam said, more of a statement than a 

request.  After two incidents already in the short period his master's cousins had

been there, he was not about to let Mr Frodo go off in their company without being forever watchful.   

Once earlier observations about the Ranger had been sorted out and explained, Sam knew that Strider would not let any harm come to his master.   Sam reminded that there may be things about his master that the Ranger might question and not know the answer to.   It was his duty to see to all of Mr Frodo's needs and he aimed to do it to be best of his ability 

"We can go and play in the stream and dream up some adventures in the tall grass

Merry," Pippin said, clearly excited about the idea.   "Come on Frodo and Sam what are we all waiting for?" he said, trying to race to the doorway.

"Hold on a minute there young Took, it might be wise to take some cool water to 

drink and something to eat later with you if you plan to stay out for a time," Gandalf suggested.

"Mind you don't get taking your games too seriously Pippin or ruin your clothes with your rough play after just arriving," Bilbo said.   Previous visits by the two lads Merry and Pippin had caused Bilbo much distress upon time for them to return home when he would have to explained to their parents what had happened to their nice clothes.

Sam went about getting a small basket ready for their afternoon's activities.  There was cool fresh water to drink, apples to eat under the shade of the trees and a few biscuits as well that Bilbo offered.

"I will bring them all back safely before it is time to prepare supper," Strider said.

The four young hobbits and Ranger now walked out Bag End and paused at the top of the hill to decide which direction to take next.    It seemed that Merry and Pippin had already made up their minds for everyone and they were already halfway down the hill before Strider or Frodo got a chance to ask where they were being led.

"They seem to have an abundance of energy for ones so small," Strider now commented as he held back his pace a little for Sam to keep up with him.   

The Ranger had already offered to take the basket from Sam if it became too heavy but Sam had objected and said that it was not necessary.

"They will certainly keep us all on our toes this afternoon I suspect," Frodo said in reply.   He couldn't help but smile at the exuberance his two younger cousins displayed almost every minute of the day.   

There were only two occasions when such energy wasn't apparent, the first being when they slept at night and the second being when it was meal time.   Although the second one was not as certain either for Frodo had experienced their enjoyment of food many times, noting that both would eat until there was nothing left upon the table and then be still voicing that they were hungry.

The shaded trees were now only a short distance away.  Merry and Pippin had slowed their pace some and were walking a short distance in front of the other three.   Frodo found himself wanting to let go a little as well that afternoon and enjoy the sunshine for as long as possible.

Frodo now walked a little more briskly towards Merry before turning to him to say something.   

"Merry I have something to tell you," Frodo in a slightly serious tone.  He glanced away briefly making sure that his path in front was clear and unobstructed.

"What is it cousin?" Merry asked not reading anything more into Frodo's words.

"Your tagged," Frodo said and in less than a half-beat was now racing away from his two astounded cousins towards the long grass and trees.

"Why you……………… Baggins," Merry said as he started to run after his fleeing cousin.    "You won't get far dear Frodo," he added.

Pippin wasn't going to be left out of the fun and games and was soon tailing Merry before pulling out in front in his attempts to catch sight of his older cousin.

Strider and Sam couldn't help but laugh out loud at Frodo's tactics towards his cousins.  It pleased Sam no end that his master was having such fun at present.

Sam and the Ranger didn't need to worry about loosing the three hobbits for their

laughter soon echoed through the trees, directing the trailing two in the right direction.

They came to a wooded area with a number of very large trees, one in particular looking magnificent with the different hues in its leaves and the stark whiteness of it's trunk.

There was a small stream gleaming a few metres away and it was here that Sam and Strider now spotted the other three.   The water wasn't very deep, merely a few inches high, but it ran like crystal along its course so that the stones on the bottom could be clearly defined.

Merry and Pippin were already involved in playful frolic, happily splashing each other with the water as they stood in the middle of the stream.  The bottom of their breeches was wet from their attempts to soak each other but other than that they remained mostly dry.

Frodo on the other hand was merely content to stand on the very edges of the stream, far enough away from his two cousins that he not be showered by them.   The water was so inviting and he let the coolness run over this feet.

Sam set the basket down under the larger tree and both he and the Ranger watched from beneath it's shady canopy.

"Why does Frodo not join in with Merry and Pippin?" Strider asked, noting that it

the expression on the hobbit's face was as though he forced himself not to go any

deeper into the water.

"Tis not natural for a hobbit to be fully submerged in water unless they are bathing Sir, although with Mr Frodo's cousins you'd be forgiven for thinking otherwise," Sam answered.   "That is what my Gaffer always says."

"My master has other reasons for not wanting to go any further than the edge," he added and turned his attention to unpacking the basket to avoid the Ranger's curiosity further.

Strider did not press the subject further at this point in time as it became apparent that he was in danger of putting a dampener on the currently happy atmosphere by asking such a question.

A few minutes later, Merry, Pippin and Frodo all came to join their companions under the shade of the tree.   The two younger hobbits were still trying to catch their breath after much activity in a short space of time.

Frodo now sat down directly under the tree, separated a little from the others, leaning his back against the strong trunk.   He willed himself to relax and enjoy the peaceful surroundings, the breeze gently ruffling his hair.

"Do you have any stories that we can share Strider?" Pippin asked as he grabbed at one of the biscuits Sam had just set down on a small plate.  

"Depends on which type of stories you would like to hear," Strider said as he made himself a little more comfortable underneath the tree.  He looked over at Frodo, who by now had his eyes closed but was not asleep.   He would still be able to hear what was said.

"I want to hear about some of your other adventures," Merry declared.  "Action with swords and fighting."   Strider raised an eyebrow at such a strong inclination  for stories with violence.

"What about you Sam, what would you prefer to hear?" Strider asked, involving him as much as the others in the conversation and decision.

"You're asking me Sir?" Sam said with a surprised expression.  To be in the company of such a man as Strider was indeed unusual to say the least but more than he could have hoped for and he had his master to thank for most of that outcome.  

"Yes Sam, I am asking you," Strider repeated, noting that Sam was one not used to having been asked what he would like or prefer.  

"Beggin your pardon Sir, but if I were to have a choice, and I thank you for offering, it would be to hear about the elves that Master Bilbo has spoken to me about," Sam said.

"If your story has elves in it Strider then you are sure to win Sam's heart," Frodo now said, still relaxing against the tree and still with his eyes closed.   

"Oh, who wants to hear about them," Pippin said with a little disappointment in his voice.     He gave Sam an apologetic look for sounding like the idea was a poor one.

"Would it please you all to know that I know of many stories that would entail both elves and adventure?" the Ranger now offered in compromise.

"Do you know about Elves Mr Strider?" Sam asked, not knowing anybody else apart from Master Bilbo who claimed to know as much about such different folk.

  
"One of my closest and dearest friends is an elf Sam.   He is indeed a true example of his kind.   He is also of noble birth, a prince no less among his own people. And  we have had many adventures together during our long friendship," Strider said, noting the looks of awe coming from Sam about an elf that was also a prince.   He knew he had one over Merry and Pippin to with his talk about adventures.   

"Please tell us Strider," Pippin asked, giving his best pouting look.  

"Is it true what they say about Elves being able to sneak up behind you without hearing them?" Merry asked.

"Yes it is true Merry.   Elves are very well known for their stealth and ability to walk along paths but leave little or no trace of their presence as others would do.

"Master Bilbo has learned me that they have very fair skin," Sam said, trying to remember the descriptions he had heard in the past.

"That is true Sam, you have remembered your tuition well, for Legolas and many others  of his kind have very fine features and fair complexions," Strider said in response.

"Hey Frodo that means you might be part Elven," Merry said, interrupting the flow of conversation for a moment.  "I've always said that your skin is much too pale for a hobbit, even if you are part Baggins and part Brandybuck."

"Yes Merry but Frodo couldn't be an Elf because his hair is much too dark,"

Pippin piped in, agreeing that Frodo had some of the similarities in his face that

Elven people were said to have inherited. 

"Elves are said to have hair as fair as their skin, though I have never seen one to

affirm this," Pippin explained giving what little information he knew about them.

"Ah but young Peregrin, I know Elrond, Lord of the Elves.  He has long hair

that is encircled by a symbol of his race, the colour is described as _being dark as the shadows of twilight," Strider said, seeing that he held keen interest of such things from the younger two hobbits._

"Lady Arwen, Lord Elrond's daughter also has also long lustrous hair that is written in books to be _dark braids of hair touched by no frost,"_

"The elves certainly have a pretty way of putting words together don't they," Sam 

reflected.   Many a times he had heard Bilbo sing songs that the elves had written

and all of them had so much poetry and meaningfulness to them unlike any other

songs that Sam had ever known before.__

"Does your friend have fair hair Strider?" Merry asked.   "I don't think you have

told us his name yet."

"Legolas," Strider informed them.  "His name is Legolas, a Prince of royal descent and yes he has long fair hair.  Some of the strands are often plaited or braided to keep them away from his face. 

"A strange sounding name I must say," Merry commented never hearing a name

for someone even remotely similar.

"If you don't mind Merry, no matter what characteristics I may share or not share

with elves, I would need to grow quite a lot taller than I am I should think.   I am

quite happy to call myself a plain ordinary hobbit," Frodo said to his cousin.

Frodo was keeping up with the conversation but not involving himself much.  He

tried to hide a smile at the suggestion that he might have Elven bloodlines further

back in his heritage.

"Enough talk about how elves should look, what of these adventures you had?"

Pippin now demanded, hoping they would get to the good parts of the story soon.

"Ah, I see you are a little over zealous," Strider remarked.

"Tell me more about this place Mirkwood you mentioned?" Merry asked. "I have

been told it is very strange place to be visiting."

"That is true Merry for those who do not know the hidden dangers," Strider said

with a note of warning in his voice.  "Mirkwood is a very picturesque part of

Middle-earth with many beautiful trees and plants that grow no where else."

As the three hobbits and Ranger talked of strange lands and people, they failed

to notice Frodo choosing now to depart their company.  He did not want to 

interrupt their discussion and planned only to wander but a few metres away to

stretch his legs.

"What are the hidden dangers Strider?" Pippin asked in a nervous voice.

"Spiders Pippin," Strider said as he watched the faces of the three small hobbits

grow round with fear.   "They are very small and hardly look troublesome for

those who would come across them.  But they are poisonous and should be well

left alone," he explained.

"I do not like crawling bugs of any kind Mr Strider," Sam now commented as

his skin suddenly felt all tingling just thinking about coming into contact with

such creatures.

"I dare say my master would not like them any more than I either, do you Mr Frodo?" Sam asked, expecting to hear a voice in reply.  A memory came to him of a much earlier time when Frodo had found a large bug on his bedding one day.  Frodo had not wanted to admit to anyone how much he hated crawling insects or bugs.  

The reply did not come though and all turned their faces to where they knew

Frodo to be sitting only a few minutes earlier.    To their surprise, the grassy

spot was now vacant.

"Mr Frodo?" Sam asked again as he got to his feet and walked around the tree

in case his master had sought to lay down and doze in the dappled shade.

"Frodo?" Strider repeated after Sam, he too getting to his feet and concerned that

he could see no sign of the hobbit.

"Sneaked away as quiet as the elves," Merry said, seeing Pippin nod his head in

agreement.

"I believe Frodo to be sensible enough and not wander to far away.   Let us take

a short walk and see if we can find him," Strider suggested.

"We don't even know which direction he went in though," Merry said, pointing

out what seemed obvious.    They couldn't see Frodo anywhere within viewable

distance from the tree.

"But if we use what evidence is before us and our knowledge of Frodo, then we

will surely pick up his trail soon enough," Strider said, remaining positive.

"What evidence are you talking about?" Pippin asked, not being able to see any

sign that Frodo might have left to show where he went.

"Come here Pippin, Merry and Sam," Strider instructed, kneeling in front of the

spot where Frodo had been sitting earlier.

"He may have moved as silently as an elf, but I am afraid that Frodo does not have the feet to match," he said, pointing to footprints made on the ground.   

As they looked beyond the footprints and into the long-grass, a definite path could be seen where blades of grass had been trodden on or lay bent over from where Frodo passed by.

Sam now lead the group as they followed the trail to the missing Frodo.

Whilst Frodo's friends only just noticed that he wasn't with them and beginning to worry of his whereabouts, the dark-haired hobbit was enjoying himself immensely.

After a short walk away from his companions, Frodo had come to another large tree in the wooded area.   Whilst this one was not so wide spread in it's branches, it was much taller and the leaves were of a more natural green colour.

Frodo had always liked climbing trees and sit perched amongst the higher branches, listening to the sounds that were around him.   From where he was he could let the breeze blow and rustle the leaves taking him back in time to when he lived at Brandy Hall.   He had often climbed trees near there as well before moving in with Bilbo.

Frodo could hear birds somewhere above him, making nests and raising families,

singing and chirping as they went about their routine.   He could see out into the

rest of the wooded area and survey the area for a greater distance than he would have normally seen from the ground.

The branch that Frodo had chosen to sit on was a very large one that grew much

longer than some further down the trunk.   It was sturdy and strong and would easily accommodate his weight.   The young hobbit now looked upwards and spotted another branch, and although it was thinner, it was only fractionally shorter than the other.

It was at times such at this when he completely on his own and enjoying what nature had to offer that Frodo found himself showing another side to himself rarely displayed in front of others, including Samwise.   There were times when he let his heart rule his body and his actions rather than acting like a sensible hobbit ought to.

Frodo stood up on the bottom branch, placing his feet carefully on the thicker bottom branch.   He now reached up with his arms at full stretch and comfortably encircled his hands around the width of the narrower branch above.

For the next few minutes, he walked back and forth a few feet in either direction

along the branch and then back again towards the trunk, always keeping his grip

firmly on the higher branch.   He placed his feet deliberately and accurately each

time as though where he walked was much narrower.

As he kept his concentration focused on where he placed his feet, Frodo was unaware of his companions approaching down on the ground.

"The trail sort of ends around here," Merry now pointed out, not yet having looked into the trees.   He and the rest of the group had been intent on following the trail on the ground before them but now they could see little sign of where Frodo had gone next.

Strider was the first to look to the branch and notice the young hobbit, grateful that he had done so before the others.   He couldn't help but fear for Frodo's safety as he watched in silence.

"Sam, Merry, Pippin, I have found him but you need to keep quiet before I point him out to you," the Ranger whispered.

"Why do we need to keep quiet?" Merry asked, thinking it was not something that 

was going to stop them from finding his missing cousin.

"Look yonder Merry but do not shout out too loudly for what  you see," Strider warned before raising his arm so they could follow with their eyes.

"Oh my lord!" Sam said with a little more volume than he or Strider would have liked. He quickly clamped his own hand over his mouth but could not hide the fear in his eyes that he now held for his master.

Merry and Pippin were both about to call out to their cousin upon seeing him perched in the tree but refrained as Strider repeated his warning of not startling Frodo.

"We have to get him down from there now!" Pippin said to the Ranger in a whisper.  The fact that the youngest hobbit was whispering at all or was capable of it, demonstrated just how afraid he was that Frodo would fall.

"Frodo has always climbed been the one to climb trees.  Even back in Brandy Hall he was told about how dangerous it was.  He never listened though," Merry commented as he thought back to earlier times.

"I am certain that Legolas and Frodo would fast become friends now that I see him doing such things.   Legolas too has an affinity for climbing trees though he had never fallen out of one so far as I know," Strider stated, trying to reassure the hobbits that Frodo might not be in any direct danger. 

"Mr Strider you just have to get him down before he falls," Sam voiced again softly, his fear not having been abated in the slightest by talk of others doing the same thing.

"I agree with you Sam, but we must also be cautious in how we go about doing it.

If Frodo was to startle suddenly then we would be causing more harm than good,"

Strider said.

"Let us wait until he is closer to the trunk before trying to attract his attention,"  
Strider suggested, noting that Frodo was only just beginning to walk back towards

the tree.

Frodo stopped walking about halfway along, still holding tightly onto the branch above.  His gaze turned upwards to the branch above as he now tried to use the strength in his arms to lift himself up onto the higher branch.

Sam's heart was almost in his throat as he watched his master become even more daring than he had ever thought was possible of him.  Inwardly he told himself that once Frodo was safely on the ground he would have to have a stern conversation with his master.

Although Strider was a little concerned himself about Frodo's safety, upon watching the agile young hobbit, he couldn't help but be amazed at his flexibility and strength for one so small.   There was so much to learn about this most interesting of hobbits.

By now, Frodo had managed to complete his desire and pulled himself up onto the higher branch.  He still held onto the branch with one hand as he waited to steady himself properly.    It was only now that he became aware of being watched.

Without remembering the warning Strider had given moments before, Pippin had

also been amazed at what Frodo had achieved.  The youngest member of the group now only wanted to show how impressed he was and began clapping towards his cousin.

"No Pippin," Merry shouted harshly, also forgetting that he too was supposed to be using a softer voice.  But the damage was already done.

Frodo was startled by the clapping from his cousin and the shout from Merry.  He

lost his balance and attempted to grab a hold of the branch but wasn't quick enough.  His concentration had been interrupted and as he tried to find a firm foothold, all he found was air.  All watching yelled in horror as they saw Frodo lose his balance.  

Before anybody could prevent it, Frodo fell backwards off the branch, a smaller

branch striking him across the cheek as he toppled.   There was a cry for help as he tried to stop himself and then a harsh thud as he fell face first onto the ground

underneath the tree.

Strider had tried in vain to get to the tree to try and cushion the fall with his own

body, but he was not fast enough either.   Frodo now lay on his stomach in the grass not moving.

"FRODO!" the three hobbits managed to say in unison as they all arrived a second behind the Ranger and tried to assess how badly he had been hurt.

"Are you alright little one?" Strider asked, feeling as though there should have been something more he could have done to prevent such an accident.  He had promised Bilbo that he would protect him whilst in the Shire and although Frodo's wandering away from them had been unexpected, he still laid a great deal of blame on himself.

At first there was no response and he thought the hobbit must have lost consciousness as he landed.  He placed his hands on the hobbit's slim shoulders and was about to gently turn him over to see what injuries he had sustained.

"Please be alright Mr Frodo," Sam said, almost on the verge of tears.  "You just got to be."  

"S-Sam…….." came the response, Frodo still trying to let the air back into his lungs.

Strider and the hobbits couldn't help but feel a sense of relief at hearing even that

one word escape his lips.   After a few more seconds, Frodo had regained enough

of his senses to try and pull himself into a sitting position.

The hobbit winced at the dull ache he felt in his chest when he did so, but he tried

to put on a brave face.   He looked up and saw the distressed faces of Sam and his

two cousins.   The Ranger knelt beside him, looking him over very carefully and

waiting for him to tell him what hurt the most.

"Just got the wind knocked out of me a bit," he said, but placed a hand on the spot

on his chest that was causing discomfort and trying to rub the pain away with the

palm of his hand.

"Let me take a look Frodo," Strider now instructed as he gently undid the buttons

on Frodo's shirt and took a look underneath the hand.

"It is a little reddened at the moment and no doubt you will have discomfort for

a day or so, not to mention a bruise afterwards," Strider diagnosed.   

"Frodo I  am sorry, I didn't mean to startle you like that," Pippin said, worried that he was the most responsible for his cousin's fall.

"I must admit I did not know you were watching but you are not to blame dear Pip," Frodo said, placing a hand on the youngest hobbit's shoulder and helping to divert his concerns.

"Oh Mr Frodo I was so worried about seeing you up in that tree like that," Sam blurted out.   

"What were you doing climbing that tree anyway Frodo?" Pippin asked.

"I like being around trees Pippin," Frodo declared as he let himself be pulled to his feet.  "It makes me feel good inside to be around things in nature."

"I bet your not feeling to good inside there right now," Merry commented ruefully. "Silly hobbit," he added, getting a sheepish grin in return from Frodo.

"Are you sure you can walk back without too much discomfort Frodo?" the Ranger enquired.    Frodo seemed to be standing on his own alright with little sign of any problems with his sense of balance at the moment.

"I will be fine," Frodo said, a little embarrassed that he had caused his friends and

companions to worry so much about him.

The group now started to head back to Bag End.   All of them were lost in their own thoughts for a time.  Strider was trying to come up with a plausible explanation for Gandalf and Bilbo why he hadn't kept a sharper eye on the lad.  

Sam was determined not to let his master Mr Frodo out of his sight again that afternoon and making sure that he would know if Frodo was trying to hide any pain.

The pace returning to Bag End was somewhat slower than it had been leaving, but

Frodo did not voice any complaints or concerns along the way.  Sam had already

promised to make a nice cup of hot tea for them all once they were there.  Hopefully the tea would help his master relax and allow any sore muscles to do the same.

As it happened, Gandalf was talking with Bilbo in the kitchen when the Ranger and hobbits came through the front door.   Bilbo had been very busy making some of the dishes for the party whilst Gandalf was prepared just to sit back and enjoy his pipe whilst engaging his friend in intelligent conversation and memories of old times.

"What have we here, our much too noisy friends have returned Bilbo," Gandalf said with a laugh.   He noticed that Merry and Pippin were still trying to escape his piercing gaze but there was also something else.  

Frodo walked in front of Strider and could not hide a few winces of pain as he shuffled his feet along the floor, looking for the words to say to his uncle Bilbo.    The ranger himself had a most strange look on his face as though he might be guilty of something.

Sam was the first to inform them of the misadventures of the afternoon, "Master Bilbo, Frodo hurt himself falling out of a tree," he announced.   Frodo and Strider both inwardly groaned, hoping they would be able to relay the details a little more subtly.

"Frodo lad are you hurt somewhere?" Bilbo now asked, wiping his floured hands on a cloth and walking forward with a concerned look on his face.  His mind had only yet focused on Sam's words that the boy was hurt.

"Only a little bruising Uncle Bilbo," Frodo said, giving his best sympathetic look with his expressive blue eyes.    "It doesn't hurt so much now," he added, hoping to ease a little of his uncle's worry.

"I am sorry Bilbo but I could not get to him in time to prevent his fall.   I will have Frodo sit a minute while I examine the area more closely," Strider suggested.

"Oh I know you are not at fault Strider.   Falling from a tree Sam is it? Well that

doesn't surprise me one bit with our young Frodo here.  He was always a little keen on trees even before he moved here to Hobbiton." Bilbo said as he saw Sam's nod of him getting the version of events correct.

"Frodo you go with Strider and do what he says while he takes a look at you.  Sam and I will make a nice cup of tea for you and I will put some herbs in that will help with any pain," Bilbo suggested.

Merry and Pippin decided it best to keep out of the way for a few minutes and were content to move closer to the table where Gandalf sat.  Pippin couldn't help but spot the pies that Bilbo had been preparing a little earlier.  He reached out his hand and tried to sneak a piece of the dough before his hand was slapped away by Merry.

 Merry gave his best disapproving look to his younger cousin, but he too was soon

dipping his finger in the soft, edible dough whilst Bilbo and the others were concerned with Frodo.

Frodo obediently went with the Ranger into the sitting room where he could be more comfortable on the settee.   He stretched out along it and patiently waited for Strider to look at his chest.

"I didn't know you knew about such matters," Frodo said as he watched the Ranger use hands of gentleness that he would not have normally associated with men.   The touch was light and firm but did not hurt.   

"I have learned much about the skill of healing from Lord Elrond that I spoke of earlier.  I was fortunate enough to learn quickly under his careful and great knowledge," Strider replied.

"Here is your tea Mr Frodo sir," Sam said as he walked over to his master and placed the mug of tea on a small table beside the settee. 

"I could probably lessen any discomfort for you a little more if I had the _athelas__ plant among my possessions.   I am not certain it grows in this area though," Strider commented, looking towards the wizard for his assistance._

"No Strider you are right, that plant does not suit well in these regions," Gandalf said blowing out a puff of smoke.

"I was just about to start to prepare supper, Samwise would you like to join us?" Bilbo asked, knowing that Frodo would appreciate his offer.

"Can he stay with all night Uncle Bilbo?" Frodo now asked with a touch of excitement in his voice.  "There are already three of us and there is plenty of space," he added.  Somehow it didn't feel right that he and his two cousins would be allowed to join in fun and games later on that evening without Sam to enjoy it too.

"Mr Frodo I am just overjoyed you would ask," Sam commented, very grateful for his master's invitation.  He had never thought of staying overnight in Bag End unless Mr Frodo wasn't feeling well and he had been asked to keep him company whilst he recovered.  

Now he was not only being asked to stay overnight but to be included in the fun of it all.  "Are you sure there is enough room, beggin your pardon as you seem to have a number of guests already Master Bilbo?"

 "I think that's a splendid idea Frodo," Bilbo said, noting the happiness in his nephew's eyes.   

"But what will I tell my Gaffer," Sam said, knowing that his father might frown a little on such matters where class and knowing one's proper place were expected.

"Well Sam, now that Frodo has gone and hurt himself some and with all of these other guests as you say, I need someone with some good old fashioned hobbit sense in case he needs anything during the night," Bilbo explained, giving Frodo a sly smile to go with his words.

Gandalf and Strider couldn't help but try and hide grins behind their mugs of tea as they listened to the older hobbit trying to coax Sam into thinking he was doing the right thing.   

"Frodo's hand will need to be attended to and the bandages changed after his bath.  I will need someone who has a sound mapping of my kitchen to help prepare the right sort of tea before bed so that he can rest through the night without being disturbed by any lingering discomfort.  Merry and Pippin will be full of energy I suspect and therefore they might not be suited to such an important task," Bilbo said, giving the stout hobbit a viable alibi that he could tell his Gaffer.  

Bilbo knew about Hamfast's views on taking care of those better than themselves.  He would use such views to his advantage without stretching the truth too much.  He doubted Frodo would like having himself referred to as needing as much help as he said, but he also knew his nephew would be more than willing to endure such remarks if it allowed Sam to join him and his cousins.

"I'll go and see him Master Bilbo and tell him the same, that Mr Frodo may be needing some company as well as caring for his hurts," Sam said, now mirroring the excitement that his master had displayed.  "If all is right, I will return with a change of clothes and some of my mother's fresh made confectionary.  Made it just for Mr Frodo's birthday she said too."

"Um, well will come with you to support your story Sam," Merry now offered, giving his younger cousin a quick jab with his elbow.  "We will make sure that Sam gets home safely and back again." he added.    

"Oh yes, we will won't we Merry," Pippin said, following the lead unaware of his 

obvious overacting.

"Is that alright with you Mr Frodo sir?" Sam asked, a little wary as to why Frodo's two cousins would be offering to go with him until he remembered mentioning something about his mother's homemade sweets.     At least now he knew what they were up to.   Hoping to get the candy for themselves no doubt Sam told himself.

"That's quite alright Sam, go now and you can come back and we can have supper and then I will read some stories to you all in my room," Frodo said, by now already knowing like Sam why Merry and Pippin were insisting that they went along too.

Frodo and the three adults watched the three hobbits head back out of Bag End and walk what would be a relatively short distance to Sam's home.

"Those too are incorrigible Bilbo," Gandalf now said, breaking the silence in the room.  He wasn't cross with the two cousins, but was not accustomed to such brazen measures taken at any opportunity to gain for themselves.

"Ah, yes I am afraid they are at that Gandalf, but don't fret so.  Underneath Merry and Pippin are quite sensible even for their ages.  They will not do wrong by Sam once they are in the presence of others.   They will mind their manners and be nothing but charming to the Gamgee family I am sure.

"Your pies and delicious pastries smell wonderful Uncle Bilbo," Frodo said as the enticing aromas wafted out to him in settee.   A mixture of just the right of nutmeg and cinnamon and a few other sweet smells that were beginning to make him hungry.

"Ah supper will be ready very shortly my dear boy," Bilbo said with a chuckle, delighted for once that his cooking had such an effect on his young nephew.   "I have been very busy since you were gone all afternoon.   That apple barrel down in the cellar will need replenishing by tomorrow as well as most of my other cooking ingredients."

"You mean that giant barrel of apples," Frodo said in astonishment.  His memory took him back to a month before when the barrel had first been brought in by Sam's Gaffer.  He had questioned his Uncle back than as to why they needed such a large barrel for just the two of them.  
  


Bilbo had replied by telling him that it didn't hurt to have a supply of fresh food wherever possible, particularly when a certain young nephew was quite fond of apples and was often found pilfering one or two before heading outdoors for his walks.

Bilbo looked towards Frodo when he finished speaking and saw the boy's mind ticking over with the information he had just been told.    "What are you thinking about?" he asked, clearly seeing an air of mischief coming from his nephews blue eyes.

"I think you have just given me a little idea about how to get back at Merry and Pippin," Frodo said with a grin as he went to get off the settee.

"Mr Strider, may I enquire if you have a cloak that I may borrow for but a few minutes.  I promise it will not come to any harm," Frodo enquired from the Ranger.

"I do indeed, and I have no objections but must ask what are you planning to do?"

Strider said, relieved that Frodo seemed to have suffered very few ill effects from his fall.    

The hobbit's movement was uninhibited from what the ranger could see.  It looked as though the bruise that would be present the following morning would be the only reminder of the mishap.

"To give two certain young cousins a taste of their own medicine," Frodo said as he took the cloak Strider offered.    He was even more pleased to see that the cloak was also hooded.  Even better for his idea.   It was much darker in colour than his own and a great deal longer but that would suit his purpose even more.

By now the adults had a vague notion of what Frodo planned to do.  Bilbo and Gandalf did not usually see Frodo involving himself in such activities, but would not deny now that they thought a little harmless fun would entertain them all.

"Uncle could you see that Merry and Pippin come looking for me once they have 

returned?" Frodo said as he started heading down to the cellar. 

"Yes Frodo, I will tell them," Bilbo said as he began clearing away his cooking dishes in order to set the table for supper. 

"Looks as though the young apprentice has an accomplice Bilbo," Gandalf laughed.  "You are not returning to ways when you were much younger are you?"

"I'll see to it that you and the Ranger are blamed as much as I am Gandalf, should 

it become necessary," Bilbo teased.   Strider and Gandalf both chuckled at the remark.

About five minutes after Frodo went down to the cellar, Merry and Pippin returned to Bag End, followed closely by Sam carrying a small backpack with his change of clothes.

"I see your Gaffer was agreeable to you staying then Sam," Bilbo said as he laid plates and cutlery on the table for all.

"Not at first Master Bilbo, I must admit.  He wasn't too keen on the idea at all.    But I am most grateful for Mr Merry here who helped to repeat the reasons why I was needed that you did.   That I needed to help look after Mr Frodo and the like.   My Gaffer changed his mind then and said it was alright as long as I remember to help out where I was needed most," Sam explained.

Merry and Pippin were both pleased with their efforts of being able to persuade Sam's parents into letting him stay at Bag End.   Like their cousin, they would be a little disappointment had he had to return home and miss out on the fun.

"Well that is most pleasing to hear Sam, I am grateful that your Gaffer has much

wisdom when it comes to such things," Bilbo said.  "I am sure that Frodo will be just as happy to hear the news as well."

It was only now that Bilbo mentioned his name that the three younger hobbits, noticed Frodo was no longer sitting on the settee.   He gave a secret wink towards Gandalf and Strider before continuing his performance.

"Where is Mr Frodo?" Sam asked, thinking that maybe his master had gone to change for dinner or lay down in his room before supper.

"I sent him down to the cellar to get some ingredients for my dessert.  I must say I sent him just after you left, he has been gone a few minutes longer than I would have expected of him.   Merry and Pippin, would you two go down and see what's keeping him.  Sam I could use your expertise in telling me if this stew is salted enough if you didn't mind," Bilbo said, using a ploy to ensure that it wasn't Sam that went looking for Frodo first.

"Sure Bilbo," Merry said enthusiastically as he urged Pippin to follow him.    He gulped a little at the darkness of the room, even from the top of the stairs and was grateful that he was not about to proceed down there alone.

Strider secretly laughed at the two hobbits paused on the stairs and noted that their fear of the dark only played further into Frodo's plan.   At first Sam had been a little irked that it was the two cousins that were asked to fetch his master, but didn't want to upset Bilbo over helping him assess the readiness of the stew.   It seemed a little odd at first, Sam knowing of Bilbo's ability to cook up any number of delicious dishes but he didn't question it all the same.

But upon seeing Strider's grin and the looks exchanged between Master Bilbo and the wizard, knew that the disappearance had been staged.  He waited along with the adults to see what would soon transpire.

Frodo could now hear footsteps descending down into the cellar and shrouded himself further into the folds of the Ranger's cloak.  When he had come down to the cellar, he had quickly climbed into the almost empty apple barrel.  The effort had made him wince a few times from the muscles in his chest pulling, and he was glad that nobody else had been about to hear his sharp intake of breath.

Once the ache had all but disappeared again, he sat on the bottom of the wooden barrel, with his knees drawn up towards his chest.  He then proceeded to drape the long cloak over his shoulders and fasten it with the fine brooch in front.    

The last thing was to set the hood over his head, shielding most of his face as he went.   He didn't have a mirror to go by, but used his hands to brush some of his dark curls wards the edges of his face for even more effect.  

Now all he had to do was wait until Merry and Pippin got too curious for their own good.

Frodo didn't have to wait long.  He heard the footsteps descend and then heard whispered voices as Merry and Pippin walked together across the floor, neither willing to admit that he was afraid of the dark and determined not to let go of each other in case they lost each other in the darkness.

Merry and Pippin could see the barrels of wine and various casks of other long life food piled up in each corner.   They couldn't see any sign of Frodo and were beginning to feel as if something might have happened to him.

"Who goes there?" Frodo said in a very deep voice, disguising his own and trying to put a little fear into the cousins.   

"Merry did you say something?" Pippin squeaked in alarm at the voice he heard.

"Don't be daft Pip, I didn't say anything, it must have been you or that imagination of yours," Merry said, trying to sound brave but knowing he was just as frightened as Pippin.

"Meriadoc and Peregrin, you disturb my slumber," Frodo said in the same voice, scarcely able to keep from laughing at the squeaks of fright he could hear coming from his two cousins.

"We didn't mean to disturb you sir, honest, we were just sent down here to look for our cousin Frodo," Pippin said, not realising who he was speaking to or that he was talking out loud.

"Frodo?" came the voice as though confused about the name.   "You mean that other hobbit whom I have eaten," it continued.

"Eaten!………." Merry said as he felt the blood drain away from his face at such a statement.

Frodo now began to rise from his seclusion in the apple barrel, looking as though he was a dark spectre rising from the floor of the cellar.

For a few seconds, Merry and Pippin could only watch in stunned horror as they watched the large, cloaked figure rise in front of them, seemingly getting larger and taller by the second.

Merry and Pippin could not see the face of the thing in front of them as it spoke to them.  It's face was shrouded by the hooded cloak.   They were on the very edge of fear and clinging to each other as though they lives were truly in danger.

"And now I shall have you as well," Frodo said in the voice, reaching out his hands towards the two hobbits.   Frodo now turned his face towards his cousins, the dark curls falling across his paler skin and making it appear as though there was nothing underneath the hood but the face.

Merry and Pippin shrieked in utter horror as they gazed upon the white face that was staring intently back at them.   They saw the blue eyes but their fear didn't allow them to recognize them as anything other than piercing and cold.

Gandalf and the others had been waiting above in the kitchen, waiting to hear what Frodo was planning to do to his cousins.   They didn't need to wait long and fought to hold back their laughter in a more composed manner as they heard the hobbits shriek and run back towards the kitchen.

Merry and Pippin came into the kitchen after climbing the stairs two at a time and 

fell over each other's feet on the floor in front of the others as they tried to escape what was chasing them.

Frodo had followed the two but stood just the other side of the doorway, whilst listening to Merry and Pippin tell their versions of events. 

"Merry, Pippin, are you alright?" Gandalf asked, finding it hard not to see the funny side of the prank.   He tried his best to keep up a sympathetic appearance which is more than could be said for Bilbo and Strider who hid their grins and giggles behind their hands for a moment.  "Whatever is the matter," he asked in a mock concerned tone.

"Oh Gandalf, Bilbo, there is a big monster down in the cellar," Pippin wailed as he fought to pull himself to his feet.

"A monster you say!  How big was this monster and what did he threaten to do?" he asked as though hanging onto their every word.

"He was small at first, we didn't even see him until he started rising out of the floor," Merry declared, waving his arms about and giving a grand demonstration of what they had discovered.

"He said he was going to eat us.  He said he had already eaten Frodo!" Pippin said, not realising at first how ridiculous he sounded.

"Eat Frodo you say?" Gandalf said, knowing he could not hold in his mirth much longer.  Thankfully he could see the still shrouded Frodo creeping up behind the two hobbits, ready to reveal himself.

Sam would have been most alarmed at such a statement, had he not been a little nervous at the sight of the moving cloak.  

"Does this monster look anything like the one standing behind you?" Gandalf now asked casually.   

Merry and Pippin froze at the wizard's words and as soon as they saw the cloak, ran behind Strider who was still seated.   "Don't let him get us Strider?" Merry cried out.

"Meriadoc and Peregrin, note what I am about to say well," Frodo said in his deep voice.

The two hobbits were telling themselves not to look at the figure any more, but the more they resisted, the more they found themselves wanting to look.   Just when they thought they would scream again in fear, the figure lifted one of his cloaked arms towards his hood, throwing it back suddenly.

"BOO!" Frodo said in his own voice, his blue eyes now shining with sheer delight at having given his two cousins such a great scare.

Strider and Bilbo could not believe such a voice came from the normally, mild mannered hobbit.  The two of them now laughed and laughed at the priceless looks on the faces of Merry and Pippin.   By now Sam had relaxed upon seeing the figure was only Frodo and he too laughed heartily along with the others.

Frodo could scarcely stop himself from laughing as he looked at the stunned looks on Merry and Pippin's faces.   The more he looked at them and remembered their shrieks and whispers down in the cellar, the harder they laughed.

By now Merry and Pippin knew that they were the butt of the joke.   They could see all laughing until they were ready to drop.    Frodo was laughing so hard his eyes were watering.   

Merry expression was the first to look indignant at what they had just been put through. "I suppose you think that is very funny Frodo Baggins," Merry asked in a demanding voice.    

Pippin now wore a similar look as Merry that he had not figured out the whole

thing was a gag to catch them out.   It seemed that everybody had been in on it except him and Merry.

"Actually I do," Frodo said, straightening himself up for a second and removing the cloak from around his shoulders.  "Thank you Strider, that was most enjoyable.  Best fun I have had in a very long time," he said still smiling broadly.

"You should have seen your faces," Frodo said to the cousins.  "I'm coming to get you" he uttered in the deep voice again and then collapsed again into laughter at the reaction he had invoked.

"You sure got them good Mr Frodo sir," Sam said, now as the laughter began to slow a little.  "I bet they won't be pulling any more pranks on you in a while," he noted with satisfaction.   He would never have thought up something as clever as that to get back at Merry and Pippin for the ink and tea.

"It was a pretty good trick," Pippin now admitted, seeing it from Frodo's point of view. If he hadn't been so scared by it, he would have said it was most inventive.  He would have to remember something like that for himself for use in future.  

"Never let it be said that a Baggins was out done by a Brandybuck and a Took," Frodo now said proudly.

"That's two Bagginses, Frodo my boy," Bilbo pointed out as he sat down at the table with the others.  "We Bagginses have to stick together you know," he added.

Merry and Pippin could only give Bilbo their icy looks as they did recall the old hobbit being part of the whole plan for it was he that had sent them down to the cellar in the first place.  He had known all along what was doing to happen.

"I am glad that I should not be on the receiving end of such revenge from a Baggins," Strider commented.   "I shall have to be forever vigilant around all of you hobbits."

"I guess we are about even at the moment Frodo," Merry said seeing little chance to get back at his cousin until he remembered the birthday celebration the next day. A smile crept over his face as he started thinking.

For the next hour, chatter around the table soon turned to eating and Frodo

would steal looks towards his two cousins on a few occasions and laugh.  Looking 

around the table as he did now, with so many friends and family at the one gathering, Frodo couldn't help but think that the birthday celebrations for him and Uncle Bilbo tomorrow should be the best ever.

As promised, about 9.00pm that night, Frodo had taken the other young hobbits into his room to read to them from some of his books.    Sam had offered to help clean up the dishes, but was dragged away by Frodo, telling him that this was one night where he was to do nothing but enjoy himself.

Gandalf and the other two adults spoke around the sitting room for a time, smoking and sipping at piping hot cups of tea and reliving old memories.    Gandalf had declared that he should retire so that he could help with the many preparations that would be in order the following day.

Bilbo and Strider could hear whispered voices coming from Frodo's room as they passed, and couldn't resist looking in to see what was going on.    As they opened the door and looked in, their eyes smiled with a most heart-warming scene before them.

Frodo had been reading to the younger hobbits as he promised, but at some stage, Merry must have declared it his turn to read to them all.   Frodo was laying on one side of the bed, whilst Pippin and Sam were gathered beside Merry turned slightly away from Frodo, apparently unaware of anything else in the room but the story they were hearing.

"Did you young hobbits wear poor Frodo out?" Bilbo asked as he walked into the room, followed by the Ranger.

Sam and the others now turned around to see what Bilbo was talking about and were surprised to see the dark-haired hobbit, sleeping peacefully on his back, his face relaxed and trouble free.    

Sam felt his cheeks redden slightly that he had not recognized any signs that he master was feeling weary.   When Merry had begun to read about a sword fight from long ago, he had been listening to closely to notice much at all.

"I am sorry Master Bilbo, I did not see how tired he was," Sam offered in apology.

"It's alright Sam," Bilbo said gently as he arranged the blanket over Frodo's slumbering form.  "I suspect you all, but Frodo most of all has had much more activity today than he is used to.    I hope he gets enough rest tonight for tomorrow.  No doubt his birthday party will be just as much fun."

"His hand and chest must not be bothering him judging by the way he sleeps so peacefully," Strider commented, not wanting to dwell on how his heart had skipped a beat a remembering the fall from the tree.

"Sam I will leave you in here with him tonight for I know you will not awaken him with chatter or moving about before he is ready to do so.   Merry and Pippin, if you come along with me I will see you settled in the spare bedroom down the hall," Bilbo instructed.

"Good Night Master Bilbo and Mr Strider sir,  I will not disturb him before morning," Sam promised and began settling himself on the other side of his friend as quietly and carefully as he could.

Merry and Pippin bid Sam goodnight and followed Strider out of Frodo's room.

"Good night my dear boy," Bilbo said and gently kissed the sleeping hobbit on his

forehead, brushing the curls from his face with an affectionate stroke of his hand. 

TO BE CONTINUED …………..

These chapters are turning out have a lot more content than I originally planned – not a bad thing – just means that there are still a few preparations to be done for the party.

One will involve Lotho and his chance to get back at Frodo before the party begins. I know it's on his birthday, but I won't do anything too serious.  Just a bit of Sack-ville Bagginses nastiness.

I have read so many great stories over the past few weeks in utter awe at the author's talent that I must admit to some of them being more inspiring for my own stories. If mine could only be but a shadow of some of those great tales then I would be most happy.  

I must thank Shirebound and Samantha20 and anybody else who has played any part in helping with this chapter.   I humbly thank Shirebound for the words she provided to me about Elrond's and Arwen's hair.   Thank you indeed – paid in mushrooms of course.

I hope I am not sounding too fluffy between Aragorn and Frodo just yet.  I need to

set up the protectiveness that he feels before they leave the shire because we all know that Frodo is going to need every inch of it when they do leave.

There should be one more chapter before they do leave for Rivendell.

I hope the prank between Frodo and Merry and Pippin worked out as I imagined.

There is also a reason for Frodo liking to climb trees that will come to light much much later in the storyline – probably won't come back to much important until A THOUSAND EYES in Moria.

Anything that I have written in error – please forgive me – it was the power of the ring blinding me as I wrote.  If you have any thing you would like to see please let me know, I will try and accommodate where possible, if not this story – the ones to come in the series.

Enough talk – let me know if you like or not.

JULES


	6. Cake Making and Gift Giving

ESCAPE THE DARKNESS  
  
By JULES  
  
Authors Quick Note - This story explores the idea about what might have happened if Strider had come to the Shire to forewarn Bilbo Baggins about the Ring Wraiths that would soon come hunting for the One Ring. Commences a few days before Bilbo's Birthday party and before Gandalf returns to the shire as well. Strider had vows to protect Bilbo when the Ring Wraiths are sent by the Dark Lord but he is unaware that the legacy of who is to carry the Ring to be destroyed falls upon a totally different Baggins hobbit.   
  
Disclaimer - I do not own any of these characters but enjoy writing them and their adventures together.  
  
Cake Making and Gift Giving  
  
Early the next morning was the start of a day involving much preparation, and then celebration unlike any that had been seen in the Shire before.  
  
Sam awoke to the sound of birds singing outside Frodo's bedroom door. 'How appropriate,' he said to himself, thinking of what such an important day in the calendar, the 22nd of September, marked for his master.  
  
Sam got up from the bed he and Frodo were sharing. His master was still sleeping soundly. Frodo had turned on his side slightly during the night, but other than that, his sleep seemed to have been peaceful.  
  
The stout hobbit went about straightening his side of the bed clothes as much as he could without disturbing his master's slumber. It was Mr Frodo's birthday after all. It was this day of all days on which a later morning was preordained as being deserved.  
  
Frodo now turned over onto his other side, encroaching on the part of the mattress where Sam had just removed himself from. Sam paused slightly, hoping that his master was not going to wake just yet.  
  
Sam smiled though at the contentment that was present on Frodo's sleep smooth face as he mumbled something incoherently and burrowed more deeply into the pillow. Some of Frodo's dark curls fell over his face, but Sam made no attempt to try and brush them away for fear of waking his friend.  
  
"Happy Birthday dear, Mr Frodo," Sam whispered.  
  
Sam pulled the blanket more securely around his master's shoulders and left the room to start on the sumptuous breakfast he had planned for Master Bilbo and Mr Frodo.  
  
For the next forty-five minutes, Sam whistled happily to himself as he went about making breakfast for all those currently sleeping in Bag End. He wanted to make this such a special day for Mr Frodo right from the very beginning that he was almost bursting with anticipation of what the day would bring. Everything had to be just so today.  
  
Sam heard Masters Merry and Pippin before he saw them that morning. Pippin's child-like laughter was coming down the hallway from their guest room right past Mr Frodo's room.  
  
Walking away from the table was preparing for breakfast, Sam stood in the middle of the hallway, in a confronting stance and his arms folded across his chest, ready to chastise the two overly-loud hobbits. Sam didn't want to make his own mistake of shouting at the cousins and causing more noise than he was trying to prevent.  
  
"Mr Merry! Mr Pippin!" Sam said as crossly as he could with only a whisper.  
  
Merry and Pippin gave their best contrite looks at the stout, sandy haired hobbit, knowing full well of what wrath they would incur from Bilbo and Sam if the household was awoken.  
  
"Sorry, Sam, just a bit excited about the day I suppose," Merry offered in apology, putting his hands deep into his pockets and walking silently to the kitchen table.  
  
"Boy, this all looks wonderful," Pippin exclaimed, clearly pleased about the generous amount of food that was laid on the table. Not to mention the aromas that wafted to their noses and the sheer variety of dishes that Sam had prepared.  
  
Pippin reached out a hand to grab one of the small round shaped bread-rolls that were carefully laid out in a basket. "Ouch," he cried out, snaking his hand back in and nursing the bruised knuckles that resulted from a quick whack from Sam's wooden spoon.  
  
"Those are for everyone to enjoy Mr Pippin," Sam warned, holding up the spoon again, ready to strike at any other such attempts.  
  
"When do we get to eat then?" Pippin said with a little disappointment in his voice. He had been all night without food and now was still denied, the hobbit grumbled secretly to himself.  
  
"Well seeing as Mr Frodo and Master Bilbo are the famous ones today, you will have to wait until they wake up to sit down at the table with everyone and have some breakfast. Shouldn't be very much longer," he added, trying to reassure the youngest cousin.  
  
Sam had momentarily turned his attention to a pot that was still simmering over the fireplace. Merry and Pippin chose this time to give each other a sly smile, as if hatching a plot to hasten things a long some.  
  
"Come on, Pippin," Merry whispered out of ear shot of Sam. The two cousins now hurried out of the kitchen and walked by one of Bilbo's writing desks. Pippin sneaked one of Bilbo's brand new feather quills from a jar on the table.  
  
Both of them now made their way unseen towards Frodo's bedroom with the feather, still making sure that Sam was no aware of what they planned to do.  
  
Upon entering the room, Pippin almost changed his mind when he saw Frodo sleeping so peacefully. He knew of the trouble they would be in with both him and Sam when the plan would be put into effect.  
  
Frodo, at that moment, stirred again, but this time a smile formed on his lips at a pleasant dream or memory he was having. He did not wake fully, but it was enough of an invitation to reignite the mirth in Merry and Pippin. Especially after they both thought back to the prank that their elder cousin had pulled the previous night.  
  
Merry moved to the side of the bed, looking down at Frodo as he slept. He held his breath temporarily as Frodo stirred again and rolled back over onto his back. This gave Merry the perfect idea of what to do.  
  
"Stand at the end of the bed, Pip," Merry said quietly.  
  
"What are we going to do?" Pippin asked, knowing that it somehow involved the feather somehow.  
  
Merry now very cautiously peeled back the blankets from Frodo's feet at the bottom of the bed. Pippin knew instantly what he was supposed to do, and he almost giggled out loud at the thought.  
  
Sam in the kitchen came close to cursing out loud when he noted that the two cousins were missing from the kitchen. He had no idea of what they were up to, but he knew it couldn't be anything good. He took a guess at where the two hobbits might be, and appeared at Frodo's bedroom door just in time to see Merry and Pippin standing next to his master. He knew exactly what the two intended to do.  
  
Pippin started the tickling lightly on the bottom of Frodo's feet, running the tip of the quill down the length of the foot very gently. It was enough pressure, though, to extract a giggle from the half-sleeping hobbit.  
  
This giggle only made Merry and Pippin more determined to use the feather on their cousin. However, this time they intended to wake him in an instant instead of getting a barely audible chuckle for their efforts.  
  
"Ready, Merry?" Pippin asked.  
  
"Ready!" Merry replied, looking over and seeing Sam standing at the door with a less impressed look on his face. They would have to do this now and quickly, before the stout hobbit would drag them out of the room by their ears.  
  
"No, Master Pippin! No!" Sam cried out aloud, trying to make a grab for the feather from the young hobbit's hand.  
  
Pippin now chose to tickle Frodo's feet with the feather again, a little harder this time.  
  
The combination of Sam's loud warning and the tickling of the feather caused Frodo to try to sit bolt upright in the bed. He was unable to muffle the laughter that escaped his lips from the feather.  
  
At the same time, Merry fell across his cousin's chest and stomach in an attempt to prevent Frodo from escaping the punishment by forcing him to lay back down on the bed.  
  
Merry and Pippin both stopped their prank immediately, though, when Frodo's laughter was replaced by a gasp of pain. Merry had accidentally placed pressure on the soft and tender bruise on his cousin's chest with his arms.  
  
"Oh, Frodo, I am sorry, I forgot about your being hurt yesterday," Merry stammered in apology.  
  
"So did I until just this moment," Frodo replied ruefully as he tried to use his hand to rub away the pain from his chest.  
  
"Now see here, you two hobbits," Sam declared, a little annoyed that Merry and Pippin had wanted to carry out such a joke in the first place. "Now you have gone and hurt Frodo, and on his birthday, too," he said, taking all the necessary precautions and removing the feathered quill from Pippin's hand.  
  
Merry and Pippin felt their faces redden slightly at the shame they felt as Sam's words rang true. They hadn't meant to hurt Frodo.  
  
"It's alright, Sam," Frodo said. "I know they didn't mean any harm."  
  
"Do I need to get Master Bilbo for you, Sir, or Mr Strider to take a look at the bruise?" Sam offered, walking over to his master.  
  
"No, Sam, that won't be necessary. The pain has almost gone now. I wasn't feeling any discomfort at all until just now when these two imps jumped on top of me," Frodo said.  
  
"Sorry, Frodo, we just didn't think, that's all," Merry said, lowering his head to hide his shame. "We just wanted to have some fun on your birthday. Happy Birthday, by the way," he added almost as an afterthought.  
  
"Happy Birthday, Frodo," Pippin said, standing in front of his cousin, and trying to use his charm and innocent look.  
  
"Thank you, dear Pip," Frodo said, drawing the younger hobbit into an embrace. Sam was standing behind Pippin and noted the gesture from his master to give him the quill.  
  
"You're not mad, then?" Pip asked cautiously, still wrapped in his older cousin's arms, and ignorant to the sly looks the other three hobbits were giving each other.  
  
"No, I am not mad, Pip," Frodo said truthfully. "But that doesn't mean.....," he started to say, and then using the hold he had on the other hobbit, he threw Pippin onto the bed and started using the feather that Sam had given to tickle him. Merry and Sam aided in holding Pippin down as he began shrieking with laughter.  
  
All four hobbits were now laughing together as one by one they joined in the frolic, and tickled each other on Frodo's large bed. The noise woke the three others staying in Bag End who appeared at the door upon hearing the racket.  
  
"Are all hobbits this loud in the morning, Bilbo?" Strider asked with a smile on his face, watching the four hobbits roll over the top of each other and laughing while still trying to tickle each other.  
  
"It is a wondrous sight to behold on such a beautiful morning is it not?" Bilbo answered, taking in the sound of laughter and gaiety on such an important day for his nephew and himself.  
  
"Good Morning, Bilbo!" Frodo exclaimed, untangling himself from the pile of hobbit feet and limbs and now hugging the older hobbit affectionately.  
  
"Good Morning to you too, Frodo my dear boy, and Happy, most Happiest of Birthday's to you," Bilbo said, returning the embrace with just as much enthusiasm and love.  
  
"Happy Birthday, Uncle Bilbo," Frodo. "Good Morning to you as well, Mr Strider," the young hobbit greeted the Ranger.  
  
Strider had returned the greeting and too had wished Bilbo and Frodo a Happy Birthday. The phrase also echoed in unison to both hobbits from Merry, Pippin and Sam who were now seated on Frodo's bed.  
  
Sam was the first hobbit to leave the room, excusing himself to make the final preparations on the breakfast feast that he had been working on.  
  
Merry and Pippin followed Bilbo and Strider out into the kitchen, allowing Frodo some privacy for getting dressed and washing his face. By the time Frodo emerged from his room, all of the dishes were laid out on the table and all were seated, patiently waiting for the final guest of honour to appear. In Pippin's case, waiting impatiently.  
  
Gandalf was also seated at the table by now. "Good Morn...." Frodo began to say to the wizard as the sentence came to an abrupt halt upon seeing the table before him.  
  
"Sam, you have certainly outdone yourself," Frodo said in amazement. The aromas from the food wafted to him and reminded him of just how hungry he was feeling.  
  
"Oh, my apologizes, Gandalf, Good Morning to you on such a lovely day," Frodo said, completing the sentence he had begun a few seconds earlier. His blue eyes shining with happiness and a glow this morning with an inner light that was noticed by all.  
  
"That's quite alright, Frodo, and as you so aptly put it, Sam has indeed outdone himself today with such a sumptuous banquet," Gandalf commented. "Happy Birthday, my dear hobbit and may there be many, many more to celebrate."  
  
"What did you have in mind to do today, Frodo?" Bilbo asked as he reached for another spread of jam for his toast. By this time, everyone had enjoyed a very large breakfast, complimenting Sam on numerous occasions on his culinary talents.  
  
"I still have one gift to finish," Frodo said, sipping at his piping hot cup of tea, laced with honey. "I had completed almost all of them quite a few weeks ago, but there is one that still needs to be finished and wrapped before lunch."  
  
"That sounds like a perfect time of the day for all of our guests to be given their presents, my dear boy," Bilbo said with excitement. "I have a rather special one to give to you on this joyous occasion, Frodo."  
  
"You know that you need not have bothered to give me anything, Uncle Bilbo," Frodo responded. "I have everything I could possibly desire right here in Bag End. Good food, a great morning, and, best of all, friends that mean the most to me, and who choose to share my birthday with me."  
  
"Oh, I knew that's exactly what you would say, my dear lad. That is precisely why I got you what I did. To show you just how much your company has come to mean to an old hobbit during all these years that you have lived at Bag End. But my secret will not be revealed just yet," Bilbo said finally, giving Frodo a quick wink.  
  
There was something about the gleam in Bilbo's eyes as he spoke to his young nephew that told Gandalf and Strider that the gift he had chosen would be the most expensive that could be found. Where Frodo was concerned, money was no object, and it was the mere fact that Frodo did not seek lavishness and material possessions that made Bilbo's and Frodo's bond to one another even stronger.  
  
It was not a secret that Bilbo Baggins was not in need of riches and wealth. In fact, there had been many circulating stories over the years and to his very day about just how much money and gold the old hobbit had managed to accumulate during his travels and over his long life.  
  
Frodo found happiness and contentment in the rich sources of life. In friends, in a simple love of nature, and in all the things that dwelled all around him. In living plants and animals. And, above of all --in loving, and in being loved in return.  
  
It was this quality in the young hobbit that caused the people in Hobbiton to spread gossips about his loyalties and true intentions from those such as the Sackville-Bagginses.  
  
Of course, Frodo had taken great time and careful thought into the present that he had chosen for his uncle. Although it may not have been rich in monetary terms, in contained all of the heart and soul that the young hobbit could find in himself. It expressed in a way that gave a more tangible outlook on how he viewed his love for Bilbo.  
  
"Will you be needing any help with the wrapping, Mr Frodo?" Sam asked, wanting to do whatever he could for his master this day.  
  
Frodo looked up at his cherished friend, and for a moment he tried to think of a way to tell him 'no' without hurting Sam's feelings. A 'no' would suffice, but it didn't sound sufficient when Sam's intentions were so genuine.  
  
"Actually, Sam, I was hoping that I could use your help with some of the preparations for the party this morning," Bilbo said first, seeing the awkward look on his nephew's face.  
  
"Of course, Mr Bilbo--if you are certain that you will not be needing my help, Mr Frodo," Sam replied.  
  
"I am going to be asking for help from you and Strider, Samwise, which will leave Merry and Pippin here with Gandalf, if he doesn't object," Bilbo said, with a slight smirk on his face.  
  
Gandalf coughed slightly, as though the smoke from his pipe had gotten caught in his throat. He wasn't overly pleased with the idea of being left to watch over the two mischievous hobbits. Then again, the alternative of leaving them alone to their own devices was something that nobody would think of doing, either. The consequences of that could be most catastrophic.  
  
Merry and Pippin were not entirely happy with the agreed arrangements that have been made, nor about having to stay with Gandalf for the majority of the morning. They didn't see the need to have anybody supervise their activities at all.  
  
Bilbo had already expressed in no uncertain terms that they were not to wander too far from Bag End before he and Strider would return from taking the various dishes Bilbo had prepared to those who would be helping with the food later in the day.  
  
Frodo had been of little assistance, deciding instead to stay well out of that topic of conversation, and locking the door to his bedroom whilst he attended to the gift wrapping mentioned earlier.  
  
Pippin had even gone to Frodo's door on two separate occasions, and he had knocked a couple of times before trying to open it. Much to his dismay, the door was not only locked from the inside, but his cousin must have been sitting right up against it to prevent it from being opened. Frodo had told Pippin that he would let him in once he was finished, and all of the presents were carefully concealed.  
  
"What else can we do, Merry?" Pippin said, starting to sound a little disappointed on a day that they thought everyone should be celebrating. He knew that most of the celebrating wouldn't be happening until later that night, but that didn't help his increasing boredom.  
  
Merry and Pippin looked over to where Gandalf was sitting, and noted with a grimace that the wizard had fallen asleep, by the look of things. They doubted they would be able to slip out of Bag End without being spotted, and so they resigned themselves to finding something to do within the smial.  
  
Merry's brow furrowed for a few minutes while he got to thinking. He could see Pippin's boredom matching his own, playing out on Pippin's young face. His face lit up with excitement all of a sudden, though, as an idea formed.  
  
"I know what we will do, Pippin," Merry declared, his voice a little too loud, almost startling Gandalf from his light doze. "You know what today is, right?" Merry took his younger cousin aside slightly so that they would not disturb the wizard or have their conversation overheard.  
  
"Today?" Pippin asked, clearly confused about what Merry was trying to ask. "It's Bilbo's and Frodo's birthday, isn't it?" he said, answering Merry with a question of his own.  
  
"Yes, exactly. Forget about Bilbo for a minute. He's had 111 birthdays, plenty of them to celebrate. Frodo has had a few birthdays, too, but he has never had many parties or friends and family to celebrate them with. And today is a special birthday. So, being his kin and all, it should be up to us to make sure that it is definitely one to remember."  
  
"What are you going to do, then?" Pippin said, with anticipation, a little enthusiasm starting to creep back into his voice. He looked towards Frodo's bedroom, and now he was rather glad that the door was closed. They could make their plans in secret, and their older cousin would be none the wiser until the surprise was ready.  
  
"Well, I heard Bilbo talking to one of the cooks for tonight's celebration. They were talking about this cake that was being made just for the party. But when I think about it, that cake is being made for both Frodo and Bilbo," Merry said, hoping that his younger cousin was cottoning on to his idea.  
  
"What does that have to do with us?" Pippin said, not really understanding what Merry was planning to do.  
  
Merry rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at first, but then softened his attitude slightly, and prepared to explain all to Pippin, slowly and carefully so that Pippin would understand. "We are going to make a second cake. Just for Frodo."  
  
Pippin's eyes lit up with delight at such a suggestion. He was well aware of the custom hobbits held onto when celebrating their birthdays, but, somehow, doing something special like this just for Frodo seemed the right thing to do.  
  
"All we have to do now is see if Bilbo has the ingredients that we need," Merry said, turning around and gazing at the shelves and the earthenware jars that adorned various corners of the kitchen. You see if you can get a mixing bowl. The biggest one you can find, Pip," he instructed.  
  
For the next ten minutes, both hobbits worked away with vigour. Merry gathered eggs, flour and everything else he could think of that should be included in a cake mixture. Lastly, he grabbed two large wooden spoons for the mixing.  
  
Pippin had gone through the cupboards, looking for the biggest bowl, just like he had been asked to do. At first he found only several smaller ones, and thought that he and Merry would have to be content with them. But, upon opening another cupboard and literally having to crawl inside it, he found what he was looking for. The bowl was very large indeed, big enough to mix more than one cake, no doubt.  
  
"Good work, Pip," Merry said as he gasped at the large bowl that his cousin brought to the table. It was so heavy that Pippin almost toppled forward onto the floor on two occasions, but Merry rushed forward to help, and together they placed the bowl carefully on the large table. Then they began making Frodo's birthday cake.  
  
"Do you know how to make a cake, Merry?" Pippin asked cautiously. He knew the basic ingredients that were needed, but how they were all combined and how long the mixture needed to cook in the oven, well, on that he wasn't as confident as he would have liked.  
  
"Sure, Pip, nothing to it, trust me," Merry said with a grin plastered on his face. Inwardly he was thinking along similar lines-that he knew the basics and would just have to make up the rest as they went along. He wasn't deterred from his task, though. 'How hard could it be, anyway?' he asked himself.  
  
Gandalf was sitting in the corner of the kitchen, still dozing in the morning sunshine that was coming through the open window. A couple of times he stirred abruptly at an overly loud word from Merry or a gasp of excitement that escaped Pippin's lips as they both stirred and mixed the various ingredients into the bowl.  
  
For the most part Gandalf showed no sign of being aware of any of Merry and Pippin's attempts at cake making. The two hobbits made sure that they kept their voices to a minimum level, or as low as was possible for the two cousins, anyway.  
  
For the next ten minutes, Pippin was happy to let Merry show the way while he stirred the various ingredients in the bowl. "The secret is adding the ingredients at the correct time, Pip," Merry instructed, adlibbing as he went, but using serious tone so that hie instructions were believable to his young and impressionable cousin.  
  
Pip didn't have any reason to dispel anything that Merry told him. Merry said that you added all of the dry ingredients first--like the flour, and the salt, and sugar. Then the wet ingredients--like the eggs, milk and vanilla. The aroma of the batter was very pleasing to both hobbits, and they thought they were well on their way to making a splendid cake for their cousin Frodo.  
  
Merry looked in to the bowl once everything was added and sufficiently combined. They didn't realise that the size of the large bowl would dwarf the batter so much. It looked as though there was barely enough mixture to make half a cake, let alone a big one like they were hoping to make for Frodo's special day.  
  
"It doesn't look as though there is enough, Merry," Pippin said, putting his thoughts into words, the disappointment clearly evident.  
  
"Yes, Pippin, you're right, it doesn't look like it will even fill half of the cake tin," Merry agreed. "But, don't despair, all we need to do is to double or triple all of the ingredients," he said.  
  
"Get ready to start mixing again, Pip," Merry said with renewed energy, once again taking up the various ingredients and putting them into the batter. At one point he had been pouring in the flour, a little bit at a time. The earthenware jar was only half full now.  
  
Merry looked from the still rather small amount of batter to the remaining flour. Throwing caution to the wind, he emptied the entire contents into the batter. There was a bit of a thud into the bottom of the bowl and a cloud of dust that came back into their faces. When the dust had settled, Pippin's nose was covered in a fine layer of flour.  
  
"Merry, my arms are getting so tired from all of this mixing," Pippin whined, rubbing at his right wrist as if to emphasis what he was saying.  
  
"That's alright, Pip, I can take a go now. All of the ingredients have been added now, and the only thing left is mix them all together," Merry offered.  
  
Fifteen minutes later, the mixing bowl was almost full of cake mixture. Merry and Pippin were both tired from the efforts needed to stir such a large amount of batter. Victory was almost in sight, though, as they transferred the cake mixture into the prepared tin.  
  
"See, Pip, now we have more than enough," Merry said, noticing that they would not be able to put all of the mixture from the bowl into the tin. There was enough overflow for the second and third tin. The two cousins weren't deterred, though, and they just reminded each other that there would be plenty of guests at the party tonight to consume the extra cake.  
  
There wasn't a hobbit they knew that would say no to cake when it was offered. They would make the bigger tin into the birthday cake for Frodo, and use the smaller two for the other party guests. Easy.  
  
The oven was now hot enough, and the three tins of cake mixture were placed carefully onto the shelf, ready to rise. The trouble was that both Merry and Pippin were unaware of just how much the cakes would rise since they had used so much flour.  
  
The danger wasn't noticed immediately; for the first twenty minutes, or so, the mixture was happily bubbling and gurgling, growing in size gradually. Merry and Pippin were too busy with cleaning up the mess they had made in the kitchen to notice anything out of the ordinary.  
  
The two cousins knew that Uncle Bilbo would be due home at any time now, and they wanted to have the kitchen ready for lunch. Gandalf had chosen to wake up just as the last of their cooking ventures were cleaned away by a damp cloth.  
  
"Have you been up to mischief?" Gandalf asked, his eyes narrowing so that there was no possibility of a denial from the two cousins.  
  
Merry and Pippin looked at each other, first, wondering if they should keep the part about Frodo's birthday cake a secret from the wizard. But, realising that Gandalf would probably see through any feasible explanation they could offer, they decided that it was best to be truthful. Frodo was still in his room, so there was no concern for him overhearing about their present.  
  
"We have been making a cake for Frodo's birthday, Gandalf," Pippin said cheerfully.  
  
"Oh, really?" Gandalf said, his eyes softening slightly, knowing that their  
  
methods might be misguided at times, and their timing was more commonly off target. The wizard couldn't help but see the love and friendship that Merry and Pippin shared with their older cousin Frodo. He knew their hearts were certainly in the right place.  
  
"Yes, Gandalf, and a grand cake it shall be, too, just you wait and see," Merry said, not being able to hide the excitement in his voice. "It should be more than half ready by now, too," he added.  
  
"Wait a minute, Merry, I don't think you should really do .....," the wizard started to say, knowing that any cake mixture needed time to rise.  
  
Pippin stood a little behind his cousin with a cloth in his hands, ready to help with the hot cake tins. Merry opened the oven door a little, giving Gandalf a clear view of what was inside.  
  
"No, Merry, wait.....," Gandalf shouted in alarm, seeing that the tins were not only full, but, due to the heat, now overflowing and ready to explode all over the three of them.  
  
Bilbo, Strider and Sam were almost at the front door of Bag End when they heard the cry of alarm from Gandalf. The next thing they heard was the loud explosion of cake mixture from the oven.  
  
"Frodo!" Bilbo said to himself, worried that something dreadful had happened to his nephew on his birthday. Sam and Strider felt their own stomachs twist with knots at the thought of what had caused such a disaster.  
  
Frodo's room had been shaken with the rest of the house, and he also came rushing out of his bedroom towards the kitchen, running into Sam at the front door, the same look of worry and confusion written on both their faces.  
  
"Oh, Frodo, my boy, you are alright?" Bilbo said. The sense of relief rushing through him was hard to suppress.  
  
"What was that loud bang then, Mr Frodo?" Sam asked, secretly giving a prayer in thanks that nothing had happened to his master.  
  
"I don't know. I was in my room when it began to shake violently along with the rest of the house. That's when I came out here and ran into you," Frodo replied.  
  
All of them now headed towards the kitchen, but stopped just inside the doorway, their mouths agape at the scene that greeted them. Standing near the oven was one very large figure, covered partially in what looked to be a batter of some description.  
  
The figure was glaring at the two smaller ones who were almost entirely covered in the same substance.  
  
Thankfully, most of the batter had been splattered on their clothing and robes, therefore preventing any serious injury. Leaving them only with a few minor burns to areas of uncovered skin.  
  
Gandalf's robes were stained and marred with a sticky, gooey mess. The same could be said of his beard. Some of the mixture ran down his robes in globules, and then fell onto the kitchen floor near his feet. The wizard was giving the two hobbits a very murderous look.  
  
Merry and Pippin had been standing closer to the oven than Gandalf, and therefore there was not one inch of them that wasn't thickly covered in cake batter. The only part of them that was distinguishable at all to Strider and the others was their beady little eyes, looking most contrite and apologetic.  
  
Up until now, Frodo and the others had been barely containing the laughter they felt inside. The look on Gandalf's face in such an embarrassing situation was just priceless.  
  
"Meriadoc Brandybuck and Peregrin Took!" Gandalf said in his best scolding voice.  
  
Merry and Pippin tried to shrink away from the wizard's wrath, hoping that Strider or one of their cousins, or Sam even, might come forward to rescue them from their impending doom, or at least say a good word on their behalf.  
  
Gandalf was about to continue the scalding words when a large dollop of cream-coloured cake dough fell from his hair and landed on his nose. The wizard's eyes seemed to turn slightly inwards and watch as the mixture then dripped onto the hem of his robes and finally to the floor.  
  
At this point Frodo could not hide his laughter any further, and he began laughing very heartily at Gandalf's face. He tried to stop himself upon seeing a most displeased response from the wizard, but that only seemed to make him laugh even harder, as Gandalf tried to give him his sternness look.  
  
Bilbo joined his nephew, and Sam was leaning heavily against a chuckling Strider, as they too were enjoying the whole idea of a great wizard being brought to his knees by the two mischievous hobbits.  
  
"We are sorry, Frodo and Uncle Bilbo. We were only trying to make a surprise for Frodo's birthday," Merry owned up. Suddenly the fun in trying to make this spectacular cake for his cousin was lost. It was going to take hours just to clean the mixture from both their clothes and hair.  
  
"I am sure you only had the best intentions at heart, lads, isn't that right, Gandalf," Bilbo said, trying to put in a good word for Merry and Pippin. The state of the kitchen left something to be said, though. The place really needed to be cleaned quite thoroughly before they could even think of taking part in luncheon.  
  
Gandalf didn't even bother addressing Bilbo's query with an answer. He gave one last "UMPH" and scowled before heading out the door, announcing that he was headed to the washroom to get cleaned up.  
  
"Looks like you two have a job to do before lunch, doesn't it," Bilbo said in a quieter voice, letting the tweenagers know that although they all had gotten a good laugh, there was still a punishment to be handed down.  
  
"Yes, Uncle Bilbo," Merry and Pippin said in unison. The two of them walked with slumped shoulders towards the door, ready to go and collect a bucket each, and a mop and some cleaning cloths to start the big cleanup. They each turned back briefly to scan over the mess that they were expected to cleanup, and they both sighed loudly at their unfortunate fate. Somehow this hadn't at all worked out like they had planned.  
  
Strider, Sam and Frodo once again laughed at the distressed looks on the two faces. They did feel a little sorry for them, and they knew that what Bilbo had said was true. Merry and Pippin had been trying their very best to make a surprise for their cousin, and that shouldn't be forgotten.  
  
Sam and Bilbo let Merry and Pippin carry out the majority of their cleaning for the next half an hour before starting to prepare the luncheon meal in the same room with them. At least the floor and table were clean, and there was only the matter of the oven to go. Somehow, though, looking at the state of the cake mixture set in concrete over most of it, they knew that they would be there until sundown.  
  
An hour after, Merry and Pippin, had started, the kitchen was beginning to look as it had done first thing that morning. Most of the mess had been cleared away. Towards the end, even Strider and Frodo had helped set the table for ready to eat.  
  
Merry and Pippin were most grateful for this, as throughout their cleaning activities, they swore that they had been driven to torment and distraction by the aromas and the smells coming from Bilbo's pans. Both of them were certain that they had not eaten in weeks, and they were most eager to sample everything that was offered and laid upon the table.  
  
"You have done a wonderful job, both you lads," Bilbo said gently. "But there is the small matter of having to clean yourselves before you eat at the table." he added.  
  
Merry and Pippin looked at each other, and then down at what remained of their clothes. Their shirts and trousers were almost unrecognisable, and they were probably going to have to be thrown away and replaced. They didn't think that any amount of washing would remove all of the batter from the fabric and restore the clothes to a wearable condition.  
  
Gandalf was just coming down the corridor, dressed in a clean set of robes, and with his beard and hair clear of any crumbs or cake mixture. His temper seemed to have cooled a great degree, and he was even beginning to see the funny side of the whole thing.  
  
"I know you meant well, whatever you had planned for me," Frodo said to his cousins, giving both of them quick kiss on the cheek for their thoughtfulness and creativity. 'Pity all of that creativity that was often misused or ill-directed,' he mused to himself.  
  
Both Merry and Pippin now disappeared into the vacant washroom. Frodo and the others thought it wise to sit down and start eating luncheon without the two younger hobbits. No doubt each of them would come to the table with ravenous appetites, and there would be very little left for anybody else if they were allowed to have their fill.  
  
Once everyone was seated at the table and luncheon was well underway, the topic of conversation turned back to more general things like the rest of the party preparations for the afternoon.  
  
"What do you want us to do, Uncle Bilbo?" Merry asked in a small voice, looking at Gandalf as he asked the question. Although it appeared that both he and Pippin had been forgiven, he was ready to resign that there would be more cleaning chores passed to them that afternoon for their morning deeds.  
  
"I think you two have deserved some time outside this afternoon, haven't you," Bilbo said with a twinkle in his eyes. "Frodo, you too, my lad. You have been in that room all morning. Did you get all of your tasks completed?"  
  
"Yes, Uncle, I did, thank you," Frodo said with a genuine smile. Inwardly he was very proud of what he had accomplished with little or no interruption. The true test would be shortly when he would present all at the table with his gifts.  
  
"Strider, I was wondering if I could impose on you yet again to go with these young hobbits? They were having some trouble this morning just before we arrived back with the marquees for the party tonight. I thought you might be able to help with the ones that still needed setting up. Then there are some ale casks still to be put in place, and tables and chairs as well," Bilbo asked, running down the mental list he had in his head.  
  
"No, Bilbo, I don't mind at all," Strider commented, looking in the direction of Merry and Pippin and finding the looks of utter relief on their faces most amusing. It seemed that they had been spared a much worse fate they had been expecting.  
  
"You will be coming with us, too, right Sam?" Frodo asked his friend who was seated beside him.  
  
"Oh yes, Mr Frodo, indeed I will. If there is still as much to do for your party as Master Bilbo says, then I will gladly help out until everything is set," Sam responded.  
  
"Before anyone leaves, I would like to do my gift presentation in the living room, if that is suitable to everyone," Frodo announced.  
  
"You go and get yourself ready, Frodo, and I will round up these good folk, and have them seated in the living room as you ask," Bilbo said, clapping his nephew lightly on the shoulder.  
  
Frodo got up from the table and went to his room to gather the gifts he had wrapped. He had almost as much excitement in him as Merry or Pippin at the moment, and he was scarcely able to contain the anticipation for what he was about to do.  
  
*****************************************************  
  
When Frodo arrived back in the living room, his arms laden with many parcels, some large, others smaller, he was pleased to see Bilbo had everyone seated and looking attentive just as promised.  
  
Frodo stood where everyone could see and hear him. "Well, I without further ado," he started to say.  
  
"Come on, Frodo, lets get them opened," Pippin shouted with excitement. Sam and Gandalf both looked at the young hobbit disapprovingly.  
  
"Mr Frodo spent a lot of time on his gifts, Pippin, I am sure that you can wait a few more minutes to reveal the surprises inside the parcels," Gandalf said.  
  
"It's alright Pip, since you and Merry seem barely able to sit still in your seats, I will present your gifts first," Frodo said. He preceded to hand his two cousins each a large roundish shape parcel. The two hobbits were clearly delighted that their presents seemed to be bigger than the others yet to be given out.  
  
Sam scowled inwardly a little at the enthusiasm with which the two young hobbits removed the wrappings that Frodo had worked so meticulously on. At least they could have shown a little restraint and kept the lovely patterned paper as a memento of the occasion as well.  
  
Once the wrappings were pulled off, they were greeted with large oval size metal tins, intricately decorates on top. After lifting the lids, both of young hobbits gasped out loud at what they saw inside.  
  
"Candy, Merry!," Pippin exclaimed, leaning over to make sure that his cousin's gift was the same. "And lots of it. Chocolates and hard boiled sweets, too," he said, with sheer delight written all over his face. Nothing made a better present to a hobbit than something to eat, and this present was a very fine one. Confectionary was often reserved for special occasions, and it was rare to see this much at any one time.  
  
"And you want to know the best part?" Frodo asked, leaning over to whisper to each of them. "These are no ordinary sweets. They come from the Big Folk. From Bree, no less. If we ever get there, I will be sure to take you to the very place that makes them. I was fortunate enough to see some of them being made myself."  
  
Merry and Pippin could scarcely find the words to respond to Frodo's generosity. It was obvious to all seated in the room that Frodo had carefully thought out the gifts for his cousins, knowing exactly what would be most appreciated.  
  
"And now you, dear Uncle Bilbo," Frodo said, a little more emotion creeping into his voice. He handed the older hobbit a soft parcel, his blue eyes looking desperately for any sign that he had chosen right.  
  
"Actually, this one is made by my own hand. I hope you will find a good use for it," Frodo said.  
  
Like Frodo's younger cousins, Bilbo could scarcely hold back the gasp of amazement at the exquisiteness of his nephew's gift. It was a satchel, but not just any ordinary satchel. It was made of very fine soft leather, almost velvety to the touch.  
  
There was a shoulder strap attached to it, but instead of being made of a straight piece of leather, the satchel was constructed of small leaf shaped pieces of material stitched together in the right sequence which looked like a chain of ivy or similar plant climbing tendril of foliage.  
  
"You made this, Frodo," Bilbo said, tears of happiness welling up in his eyes of being afforded such a fine piece of craftsmanship. "Where did you get this marvellous material from?"  
  
"I have to admit that I had a little help, but only in the selecting of the right materials. All of the stitching and cutting is my own. The woodland elves gave me the leather and instructed me how to make crafts of it," Frodo explained.  
  
"Oh, Frodo my lad, this is the most handsome satchel I have ever seen," Bilbo said, not wanting to stop the praise. All others also marvelled at the soft feel of the leather, and the skill Frodo had created it with. They could see the amount of devotion and love that Frodo had sewn into each stitch.  
  
"Did you have a particular use in mind when you made it for me, Frodo lad?" Bilbo asked, knowing that Frodo would indeed have already thought of a use before the satchel had even been finished.  
  
"Yes, well, I thought you might use it to carry your red book, Bilbo," Frodo suggested, taking his uncle's hands in his own. "That way you and I could still share those long walks we both enjoy so much, and you wouldn't need to worry about losing any time to write your book."  
  
Bilbo sighed inwardly a little, his eyes smiling back at his nephew. Then he looked towards Gandalf. Both of them knew that Frodo had thought long and hard about this particular gift and its potential usage.  
  
Frodo had been trying to think of a way of subtly telling his Uncle that he missed their walks, and the times they spent together, talking about things such as nature and elves and the Shire. He wanted to tell his uncle that he missed those times much these days, without hurting any feelings.  
  
"I shall treasure it always, Frodo my dear boy," Bilbo said, giving Frodo's hands a gentle squeeze of affection. He wanted to say so much more to the one person who meant so much to him, but it hurt to try and put those feelings into actions or words. He wanted to tell this sweet innocent hobbit before him about his intentions to leave, and that he would regretfully not be able to enjoy as many long walks as Frodo wished.  
  
"Come on, Frodo, don't let us wait too long. Who is next?" Merry said, even though his turn had already been. He was most excited to see what other gifts Frodo had organized if the first two were anything to go by. He never had any idea that his darker-haired cousin was so creative until now.  
  
"Sam, this is for you," Frodo said, walking in front of his dearest friend and handing him the delicately wrapped parcel. "I am afraid I can take no credit for making your gift, Sam. It was purchased in Bree at the same time as the candy for Merry and Pippin. I do hope it is to your liking."  
  
For a few seconds, Sam could scarcely believe that Frodo had gotten him a present. Not that he didn't think his master was not generous or anything. He just had it set in his mind that the gift giving was only intended for family like Bilbo and Mr Frodo's two cousins.  
  
It virtually took his breath away that his master would include him in the gift giving, as though he were family. Many times he had thought their special friendship as close as brothers, and he was proud to have Frodo consider him more than a servant. For the first time that day or indeed in a long time, Sam found himself lost for the right words of thanks to say in return. His eyes were moist and his emotions were running high at that moment.  
  
"Mr Frodo, I don't know what to say," he whispered, putting his thoughts into words. He graciously accepted the parcel from his master and knew that whatever lay inside would be treated with the utmost of care for a great deal of time to come.  
  
"Then don't say anything, you silly hobbit and open it," Frodo said, his blue eyes shining with happiness, with a genuine smile on his face. He couldn't think of anybody else who was more deserving than Sam. His friend worked tirelessly and without complain or ask of favour, so today, Frodo decided to show in some small way of just how much he appreciated Sam's unending friendship and loyalty.  
  
Sam lifted the flap of wrapping paper and revealed a long, soft grey cloak. One that was made of very fine material, and the colour of which almost shimmered in the light. He stood up so that he and everyone else could inspect the rest of the garment. It was a very grand cloak indeed, and it would be warm in the winter months, no doubt, Sam assumed, running his fingertips gently down the long folds of fabric, almost regretting to mar such finery with his hands.  
  
"Oh, Mr Frodo, this is more than I could ever have thought you would give me," Sam said, his voice full of emotion, and the tears that had earlier threatened to betray him now running freely down his face. "Are you sure you wish to let me have such a cloak. It must have been very expensive," Sam said, not really wanting to make too much mention of the money that might be involved.  
  
"Here, let me see how it looks on you properly," Frodo said, taking the cloak from his friend, and then proceeding to drape it over the sandy- haired hobbit's shoulders. He clasped it at the front with the well made brooch, and then took a few steps back to admire how Sam looked.  
  
"No more than just an ordinary hobbit, I dare say, wouldn't you all agree?" Frodo asked of everyone else seated in the room. All nodded their heads in agreement, each smiling at the fact that Frodo's gifts seemed to be getting better with each person.  
  
"Promise me, Sam, that you will wear it with pride and as often as you wish to," Frodo asked. "While you may say that it is too grand for everyday use, I hope that you will understand that I want it to be a symbol of our friendship and how much I care for you. Each time you put it around your shoulders, I hope you think as if it were my arms supporting you, sheltering and shielding you and keeping you warm on whatever journeys life may have in store for you."  
  
"I promise, Mr Frodo, that I shall take the very best care of it, as if it were a part of you," Sam said, his face awash with a fresh onslaught of tears. Both hobbits now embraced each other tightly, and confirmed their friendship in those few brief moments, oblivious that they were being watched by others.  
  
The hobbits released each other and looked back to see their other friends trying to look inconspicuously about the room. Sam and Frodo didn't mind, though, as they saw that all wore smiles at such a pledge of friendship and that all knew that they cared for each other very much. The cloak was a very fine gift indeed.  
  
"My last few gifts are for all of you," Frodo stated, handing each of them, including his cousins, Bilbo and Sam, who had already received other gifts, a separate package that was as expertly wrapped as the previous ones.  
  
Strider was now the one at loss for words, when he too was involved, as Frodo also placed a package in his lap and gave him a smile. "Yes, Mr Strider, I made one for you, too. That is why I had to take a little time this morning away from you all," Frodo said with a grin.  
  
"I am honoured that you have included me in this ritual, Frodo," the Ranger said in an appreciative tone. "What have I done in these couple of days we have known to have you bestow a gift on me?"  
  
"I don't give gifts because you or anybody has done anything, Mr Strider," Frodo replied. "I give you all a small something to keep because I value you as a friend. I value all who are in this room right now. True it may be that you are not family, and that you have only been here at Bag End for a couple of days, but that does not mean that I have not enjoyed your company immensely during that time."  
  
"Come on, open them up," Frodo then instructed them all.  
  
If the individual gifts for Bilbo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin were given with love and friendship in mind, then the gifts that each of them now held were a true testament to how Frodo viewed each of them in his life.  
  
Each of them had been given two small carved wooden figurines. In Strider's case the figurine was a large round shaped flat piece of wood with a picture carved into the face. The carvings were not just random. They were all of certain times over the last year or so that they had spent with Frodo individually. It was as if Frodo had taken a slice of a memory with each of them, and given them a pictorial meaning in the form of a carved statue.  
  
The figures were exact in resemblance and characteristics of each of them, down to even the facial expressions and the small tufts of grass that had been added in the background. They all remembered exactly where the individual scenes had been played out.  
  
Pippin was delighted that his figurines showed a time from only a few months ago, when he had been down by the stream with Frodo, under the shade of the trees. Frodo had carved Pippin splashing about in the cool stream, and he had added a few rocks and other surrounding features to complete the scene. It had been a lovely day, and now Pippin would have a keepsake to look at forever.  
  
Merry's statues were of times that he and Frodo had shared at Brandy Hall when they had been younger, and of the time just before Frodo came to live at Bag End.  
  
Sam's figurines were of him working in the garden and orchard. Frodo had included each species of flower and shrub, depicting each individual petal and leafy stem with such precision.  
  
Bilbo's were of him at his desk. "You must have been spying on me on a few occasions by the look of these, Frodo." His nephew only smiled in response, knowing that his uncle had never suspected that he had been carefully studying him while he worked on his book.  
  
Gandalf was astonished at the accuracy of his figurines, because the scenes depicted had occurred almost a year ago. How Frodo had remembered the scenes with such detail from that long ago he couldn't fathom. The hobbit was truly skilled as a carver. Carving was another artistic pursuit that nobody knew about no doubt.  
  
"What did Frodo carve on your piece, Strider?" Merry asked, leaning over to take a closer look, seeing that Strider's figurine was slightly different from the others. Strider held it aloft so that all could see what had been done.  
  
The three hobbits smiled instantly when they noted that the scene was the same one they had played out only the day before under the shade of the large tree, where the Ranger had been sharing his knowledge of Elves and of other stories.  
  
Bilbo was the first to ask what everyone wanted to know from Frodo. "Where did you learn to carve wood like this, Frodo my boy? I had no idea you ever knew how to create such lovely things. You surprise me to no end today."  
  
"I have been learning carving for a long time now, Uncle. Even before I came to Bag End. I often used to meet up with some of the elves in the woods near Brandy Hall. They taught me everything I needed to know and gave me the small tools I use.  
  
Frodo briefly left the room, and came back with a small wrap of cloth in one hand. He placed it on a small table in the room and revealed five small implements that he used had to create his works of art.  
  
"Each of them has a different use and purpose," Frodo explained. "Some I use just to get the rough image formed on the piece of wood. Then I use these two smaller ones here to put in the detail and carve the more finer lines for facial features and the like."  
  
"I never knew," Bilbo repeated, looking at the small hand tools. He didn't begrudge the lad a hobby. His nephew was obviously very talented and had learned a great skill, and by looking at the lad's smiling face, he could tell that Frodo gained a lot of satisfaction from being able to create things from wood.  
  
"Hobbits really are amazing creatures," Gandalf commented, looking fondly at Frodo as he uttered the words.  
  
"Is wood carving a hard thing to do, Mr Frodo?" Sam asked in a soft voice. Some of the intricacy involved in the carvings would have taken Frodo hours, if not days, of meticulous and small strokes.  
  
Like the others, just when he thought he could claim to know the most about his master, something like this came along and caused him to rethink. He had never seen Frodo carving a piece of wood. He assumed Frodo must have done his work while he was in the forest on his walks or in his bedroom when nobody else was about.  
  
"Not really, Sam," Frodo replied modestly. "I don't really have to do a lot at all. The beauty is already there in the wood, hiding underneath the bark. All I have to do is chip away at the unwanted bits, and the statue reveals itself to me."  
  
"That is truly a wonderful connection with nature you have, Frodo," Strider commented, noting how the hobbit chose to describe his artistic pursuits. "Legolas and elves in his woodland realm would be most honoured with your respect of trees and all things living."  
  
"It makes the memories that much richer and rewarding when I can see it like this instead of on a flat piece of canvas," Frodo explained. "I could have put the images onto paper or on another medium, but this way they seem to remain fresh as if they were only yesterday to me. This way I can recall how everyone was feeling on those occasions, not just what happened."  
  
"The elves taught me to understand nature and the trees well. That's why I never use a living branch from a tree. I only collect the ones discarded over time that are no longer of any use and lay upon the forest floor, waiting for me to pick them up and find an alternative use for them. I must admit that I used the last piece of wood I had in my collection to create you a carving, Strider. I will have to take another walk tomorrow to gather some more to begin another statue," Frodo said.  
  
"Well then, Frodo my lad, if you are quite finished with amazing us with your generosity and wonderful creative talents, I will present my present to you," Bilbo announced. "I also have presents for all of you that I will distribute at the party along with the other guests, but I want to make this special presentation to Frodo now. Although I do not think I could match the treasures that you have given us today, my boy."  
  
"You didn't have to get me anything Bilbo," Frodo said, blushing slightly. "I have everything here at Bag End that I could ever ask for. A wonderful place to live, a place that is cosy and warm. Food on the table at any hour of the day so that I may never fear of going hungry. And most of all, family and friends with whom to share my life."  
  
"Nonsense my boy, you are the most considerate person I know. You would give to others who have less than you, even if you have very little yourself. You are the most selfless, caring and good-natured hobbit I have the pleasure of calling my heir. It's about time I started giving you some of the things that you do not ask for," Bilbo said, believing wholly in every word he spoke.  
  
"It's just something I would like you see you wear tonight together with the jacket and trousers that you have already picked out," Bilbo said as he handed Frodo a lightly wrapped parcel. "I think the colour should be most befitting."  
  
Frodo drew forth from the unwrapped parcel the most exquisite and well made vest that he had ever laid eyes upon. The front consisted of a black background with interwoven patterns of cobalt blue and gold threading. The back was a large piece of shiny satin fabric in the same cobalt blue. So striking and beautiful to look at, and a perfect match to Frodo's eyes.  
  
"Oh, Uncle Bilbo," Frodo said. It was his turn to show amazement and admiration for something so well made and pleasing to the eye. "It is truly a wonderful vest. I really love it and shall wear it with your blessing, of course."  
  
Frodo tried the vest on to see how well it fitted, and was pleased to see that Bilbo had done well to gauge the correct size. With the blue of the vest shimmering against the light, and his dark curly hair framing his pale features and enhancing his bright blue eyes, all noted how truly handsome Frodo looked.  
  
"Now, that's not fair Bilbo," Merry said, trying to sound a little unhappy about the whole situation. His smile gave him away, though, and all knew that he was only having fun at Frodo's expense in a good-natured way.  
  
"What isn't fair, Merry?" Strider asked, seeing the mirth in the hobbit's eyes.  
  
"Well, with Frodo having a vest like that and looking his most handsome and all at the party tonight. What chance do the rest of us have at getting a dance with any of the lasses who are going to be there?" Merry remarked.  
  
"Too true, cousin, too true," Pippin said in agreement. "Totally not fair, Bilbo. We will have to drag Frodo away from the girls for the entire night for his own protection."  
  
"Oh, don't worry, Merry and Pippin, my lads," Bilbo said in his defence. "Of course I did not forget either of you when I purchased the vest for Frodo. He then left the room and came back bearing two smaller parcels for the two cousins.  
  
"For you," Bilbo said, handing Merry one of the parcels. "And you," handing the other to Pippin. "You will look just as splendid as your cousin."  
  
Merry looked at his gift from Bilbo with excitement. He revealed a bright yellow coloured vest, criss-crossed with red embroidered thin stripes. Pippin's vest was equally as nice, being made of a appealing shade of green and fabric very soft to touch.  
  
"Oh, and Sam, I might as well give you your gift now, too, seeing how I have just given out the presents I meant for Frodo and his cousins. And, don't worry, you are most welcome, my dear hobbit lad, and most worthy of a gift on such a special occasion."  
  
Sam found himself blushing deeply at the love and friendship that came from Master Bilbo. Receiving a gift from the old hobbit was even more unexpected than receiving one from Frodo. He didn't know how he was going to be able to show his gratitude to such wonderful folk.  
  
Again, Sam's gift was a vest to be worn to the party. It was of a lovely earthy brown colour, a shade or two darker than his curls. Sam looked over at Frodo who only smiled back. He had known for quite some time about Bilbo's intention to give Sam a present in celebration of his 111th birthday.  
  
"Looks as though we will all look a little second-class compared to these finely dressed hobbits, Gandalf," Strider commented with a soft laugh. "I think we shall be quite busy keeping them all out of trouble tonight."  
  
The wizard smiled and nodded at the Ranger's words. "It shall be an eventful night, I suspect."  
  
"Well then, I guess we had better go and check on these final party preparations and make sure everything is in order before the afternoon," Strider said. He was loathe to drag everyone away from what had been a most enjoyable hour of gift giving and sharing in each others company.  
  
"Go on then, let older folk like Gandalf and I have some peace and quiet for a couple of hours," Bilbo said jokingly. "Mind you are back in time to start getting dressed for the party, though," he added.  
  
All of the gifts were carefully gathered and placed away for safe keeping. Sam had asked Frodo if he could keep his fine vest in his bedroom until they were ready to leave for the party that evening. Frodo of course had no objections. Sam's new cloak was folded up neatly and stored away until it would be time to wear it.  
  
Merry, Pippin and Strider now left Bag End with Sam and Frodo close behind. They didn't have a great distance to go as the party was being held in a large grassy field nearby.  
  
It really was beginning to look like a party scene now, with some of the marquees already erected and the ropes tied in place. There were a lot of hobbits there, setting up a long row of ale casks and tables and chairs.  
  
A few of the hobbits looked a little warily of Strider when he showed up to help, but with a little coercion from Frodo and an explanation that the Big Person was only there to help, they all returned to their assigned tasks without any further fuss.  
  
A couple of them made a deliberate effort to walk wide of the Ranger as they went back and forth organising the party, but a few of them were more than grateful for Strider's assistance in helping them lift the heavy ale casks into position.  
  
Merry and Pippin watched with interest as several hobbits now joined their efforts together in helping raise a large banner. Written on it was the name in large letters,  
  
HAPPY BIRTHDAY, BILBO BAGGINS!  
  
"The sign doesn't have Frodo's name on it," Pippin said, wondering how the writers could have forgotten to add his cousin's name.  
  
"It's too late to change it now, Pip," Merry said, a little annoyed, too that Frodo's special day seemed to have lost some of its importance alongside with Bilbo's grand feat of 111 years of age.  
  
"It will just be up to all of us tonight to make sure that everyone doesn't neglect the fact that it is Frodo's birthday, too," Merry stated, loud enough for Sam could hear and nod his head in agreement. Frodo had been quietly talking with Strider a few steps away from Sam and his cousins, and he did not hear the conversation about the banner.  
  
"Mr Strider, if you wouldn't mind, could I ask you to help myself, Merry and Pippin in erecting this marquee here? It's one of the last few to go up, and with all of us it shouldn't take too long," Sam asked, most politely.  
  
"Certainly, Sam. If you were to take one of the corners there, Merry and Pippin one over there together, with Frodo on that far side and me here, we should make a great team together, I should think," Strider replied, realising that because of their smaller stature, it would take co-operation to complete the task successfully.  
  
"Mr Frodo, beggin your pardon, but you shouldn't be needing to help if you don't want to. Seeing as how it is your birthday and all, I hope you don't feel obligated or anything on your special day."  
  
"Sam, I wouldn't just stand here and let you do the work while I just watch. No matter what the day is, that wouldn't be right," Frodo remarked.  
  
"Well, looky, what we have here!" came a voice from behind Strider.  
  
All turned around at the new comers, only to scowl as they saw none other than Lotho Sackville-Baggins and two of his sidekicks.  
  
"What are you doing here Lotho?" Frodo demanded, having no qualms about confronting his much too loud cousin. Frodo tried to act civil for the sake of others who were within earshot. He was supposed to be a gentle- hobbit, after all, and he should be able to control his outbursts of anger with a little more decorum.  
  
"We just came to see if you needed any help, cousin," Lotho said in a voice was meant to sound full of sincerity and honesty, but no doubt was laden with poisonous intentions.  
  
Strider and Sam were concerned for Frodo's safety, especially after seeing Lotho with a sling shot only a day earlier. The Ranger came to stand beside Frodo, making sure that Lotho understood that he aimed to keep any trouble from ensuing.  
  
"We can help you put up the marquee if you like," Lotho offered. "You two boys take that corner there and I will take the gardener's place."  
  
Frodo shrugged his shoulders at the offer and walked over to the corner he was to be holding. Merry and Pippin were to his right and Lotho directly opposite.  
  
What Frodo and his companions didn't realise was that Lotho and his friends had already noticed how strong the breeze was underneath the tent canvas. The material was flapping and billowing out under the continuous gusts, and Lotho could see that the two younger hobbits, Merry and Pippin, were struggling to keep a hold of their corner.  
  
Behind Frodo there was a gentle sloping embankment covered with long soft grass. Lotho looked from side to side, realising that all he needed to do was to wait for the right gust of wind to come along and release his corner at just the right time, and, no doubt, his troublesome cousin would not only get the shock of his life, but would hopefully take a great tumble with the tent and all down the slope.  
  
For the next few minutes, Lotho made sure that he appeared no less helpful than anybody else. He had motioned towards his partner in crime of the signal he would give when it would be time to let go of the tent. The breeze was getting stronger and stronger by the minute.  
  
"How are you going over there Lotho?" Frodo asked, unaware of the sneaky glances his kin was stealing. Sam and Strider were not very happy at all about the situation and couldn't help but think that there was something not quite right.  
  
"I am fine over this end, Frodo," Lotho called back. "Don't worry about me," he added. 'Worry about yourself, Frodo.'  
  
Strider was just about to step forward and relieve Frodo of his end of the tent when nature intervened, and the tent billowed up under another strong gust of wind.  
  
"Hold it steady for just a little longer, Pip," Merry declared, seeing the younger hobbit having great difficulty in holding his end still. Pippin was in danger of being picked up with the tent if the breeze grew too much stronger.  
  
"I can't, Merry, it's slipping from my hands," Pippin shouted in alarm as another gust battered the underside of the canvas. It was now that Lotho put his plan into action.  
  
"Now!" Lotho said aloud, and immediately let go of his end at the same time as his friend. With Merry and Pippin being the only ones left holding onto the corner apart from Frodo, the battle was soon lost, and the edge of the tent was ripped from their grasp.  
  
Frodo only had a moment to give a startled cry, as he saw the billowing canvas be lifted up by the wind once again, and come towards him with the breeze fully behind it. His blue eyes widened for an instant, but then his entire body was engulfed in the metres and metres of stiff fabric.  
  
The alarmed hobbit tried to let go of his own corner and work his way out from underneath the heavy folds. In trying to escape, however, much to Lotho's amusement, Frodo inadvertently took a step back, and instead of finding solid ground behind him, found only the sloping hillside.  
  
"Mr Frodo!" Sam cried out urgently, as he saw the tent with his master trapped inside, begin to travel down the grassy slope, helped along by the force of the breeze.  
  
The more the tent rolled down the slope, the more entangled Frodo became, until he was literally rolled up, and at the mercy of wherever the wind decided to take him. There just wasn't enough weight from him to counteract the force of the breeze.  
  
The three hobbits and Strider took after the tent down the grassy embankment, worried about in what condition they might find Frodo when he finally stopped tumbling. To their relief, a large tree prevented the tent from going any further and that was where it now rested at the base of the tree.  
  
"Mr Frodo, are you alright in there?" Sam cried out, using both hands to try and free his master from the mountains of canvas. At first there was no response to his anguished cries, and Sam thought that Frodo must have fainted or been knocked out from the trip down the hill.  
  
"Frodo?" Strider called out, as impatient as the hobbits for seeing if his friend was alright. He was getting frustrated with the fabric as well, and he knew that if he had his sword handy they would be able to free Frodo quicker.  
  
There was a muffled cry coming from within the folds of the tent, and the four of them worked even harder to release Frodo. Soon there was a dark head of curls visible, and a hand reaching up towards them.  
  
Strider grabbed a hold of the hand while the rest of them helped uncover Frodo. "Are you alright Frodo?" he asked.  
  
Frodo didn't reply at first, and although he was conscious, the hobbit was clearly dazed, if not a little stunned from his fall down the hill. His blue eyes were wide with fright, and his face was a little paler than the Ranger would have preferred.  
  
"W-what......" There was a long pause before he could manage to get the words out. "What happened?" The hobbit's breathing was slightly shallow and raspy.  
  
Strider made Frodo remain sitting down for a few seconds more before allowing the hobbit to attempt standing on his own feet. When Frodo did try it, his legs were like jelly and his stance was unsteady. He held on tightly to Strider's shoulder and to Sam's outstretched hand to regain his sense of balance.  
  
"That Lotho!" Sam spat angrily and looked up towards the hill where they had been just standing. They could see Lotho and his friends pointing down to them and laughing at Frodo's mishap. Planned all along, no doubt, to their disgust. Lotho and his friends started to walk away now though, and they would be out of range before Strider or Sam could reach the top again and let them have what they deserved.  
  
"Are you okay now, Frodo," Pippin asked, his voice a little quieter for the fear he held that his cousin had been hurt seriously. He hated to think that something bad could happen to somebody on his birthday.  
  
Frodo let go of Sam's hand, and started rubbing lightly at the centre of his chest with the palm of his hand. He closed his eyes, and tried to will the dull ache to go away.  
  
"That is where you were hurt yesterday after the fall from that tree, Frodo," Strider commented, hoping that the hobbit would allow him to take a closer look. "Has it just started paining you again now?"  
  
"I think the bruise was just knocked a couple of times as I rolled," Frodo answered, keeping his eyes closed and his concentration on the area in question. "I was going so fast I just couldn't stop, no matter how hard I tried."  
  
"Let me see, please?" Strider asked gently. Frodo nodded and allowed the Ranger to undo the first two buttons of his shirt, and take a better look at the bruised chest.  
  
There seemed to be no additional bruising present, and thankfully all of that stiff fabric had most likely prevented any serious harm befalling the hobbit. That didn't mean that the area wouldn't be tender to touch again.  
  
"It looks fine, Frodo, but I fear that it may be painful for a day or two longer now," the Ranger diagnosed. "Can you walk back to Bag End?"  
  
"Yes, I think I will be alright now," Frodo said, the pain lessening and only a small residual amount of dizziness to contend with.  
  
"Sam, would you help see Frodo home to Bilbo, and tell him what has happened?" Strider asked the stout hobbit. "Merry and Pippin can help me do the last of the preparations, and get this tent back up the hill to be set up for tonight. We shan't be long, and we'll return shortly."  
  
"No problem with that, Mr Strider. Mr Frodo needs to rest for a bit before tonight now, and I aim to see that he gets home," Sam said.  
  
"I wish that Lotho Sackville-Baggins was going to get what's coming to him," Merry said, starting to show some outrage at Frodo's accident. "Don't you worry, Frodo, I won't be letting him or any of his friends anywhere near you tonight."  
  
"You can be certain of that, Mr Merry," Sam said in agreement, knowing that Lotho would be there as a guest whether they approved or not. No doubt Master Bilbo would have a great deal to say to the young hobbit once he found out what had happened this afternoon with the tent.  
  
"Thank you, I don't think he will cause too much trouble with all the other guests about. We really can't even prove that what he did just now was deliberate. He will be able to say that the wind just got hold of the tent and he couldn't hold it," Frodo stated.  
  
Strider didn't really weigh his opinions into the conversation, but inwardly he told himself, like Merry did, that he wouldn't be letting the likes of Lotho Sackville-Baggins or anybody else cause more harm to come to Frodo tonight. He would be extra vigilant for just such foolish troublemaking.  
  
The trip that Sam and Frodo made back to Bag End was quite a bit slower this time. Frodo didn't want to voice out loud that his chest was hurting him some. He knew Sam was already worried about him, and he didn't want his friend even more concerned.  
  
They reached the front door to Bag End, and Sam opened the door, still holding a gentle hand behind Frodo's back in case he should falter. Bilbo and Gandalf were still seated in the living room, where Sam lead Frodo, and urged him to settle down on the settee.  
  
Bilbo and Gandalf had been idly chatting about past memories and people they had known, sipping at tea to pass the time, and letting the world go by at a much slower pace. At seeing Sam supporting his nephew, though, Bilbo was on his feet in an instant, and was now standing in front of Frodo's pale face with a concerned look.  
  
"Are you alright, Frodo my lad?" Bilbo asked, seeing a slight pained expression on his nephew's face.  
  
"I am fine, Uncle," Frodo said, closing his eyes and not really wanting to go into any great detail about what happened. Hoping rather that Bilbo and Gandalf might think he was just tired from the day, and allow him to rest peacefully, before they all had to start getting ready for the party.  
  
"You just sit there, Mr Frodo, and rest, while I get you a nice cup of tea," Sam suggested, giving Frodo's arm a gentle pat, and then heading into the kitchen. Bilbo and Gandalf quietly followed the stout hobbit, knowing that Sam would fill them in on what had transpired.  
  
"What happened to Frodo, Samwise?" Bilbo asked, not meaning to sound harsh, but noting that Sam was also upset to a certain degree about his master's discomfort and attempts not to reveal the truth.  
  
"Did you run into trouble after you left here?" Gandalf queried.  
  
"You could say that, Mr Gandalf, sir, yes. Everything was going fine at the party field until Lotho and his friends turned up," Sam said, knowing that Bilbo would know of whom he spoke.  
  
"Lotho, you mean that miserable excuse for a hobbit, Lotho Sackville- Baggins?" Bilbo asked with distain clearly evident in his voice.  
  
Sam went onto describe as best he could the sequence of events from the first moment that Lotho and his pals showed up to the moment when they had let go of the tent and Frodo had taken a nasty tumble backwards down the grassy embankment.  
  
As he continued the story, Sam could see the normally warm chocolate brown eyes of Bilbo begin to cloud as though there was a storm brewing within the elderly hobbit.  
  
"I do hope I have the misfortune of running into that family tonight. I have a few things to say to both Lotho and his parents," Bilbo said ominously. Most people in the Shire considered the old hobbit to be quaint in his ways, and somewhat withdrawn from the affairs of others and the various comings and goings within Hobbiton.  
  
That may have been true to a certain extent, but when it came to someone like Frodo, for whom he cared deeply, was on the end of some deliberate and mischievous prank, then the good people of the Shire would see just how resilient he could be when defending one of his own.  
  
Bilbo swore when Frodo first came to Bag End that he would do everything within his power to give the lad a good home and education, and he would keep him safe from harm and ill-word from others. That oath also extended to the likes of the Sackville-Bagginses who looked at Frodo down their noses as if he were of a lowly class.  
  
"Thank you, Sam, for being honest and telling us. I don't blame Frodo, mind you. I know there are times he would rather just let such things go away without fuss or comment," Bilbo said with a smile.  
  
Bilbo and Gandalf returned to the living room along with Sam, who served his master the cup of tea he promised. By the time Strider and the two cousins returned from the party field, Frodo showed no ill affects from his tumble, nor any animosity towards Lotho and his friends.  
  
Half an hour before the party was to begin, everyone was gathered in the smial, dressed in their finest clothes. They looked at each other and were pleased at the results that they had been able to achieve.  
  
They were only waiting on Frodo now, who had waited until the very last minute to put on the brocaded vest that Bilbo had presented him with.  
  
"Uncle, could you please help me with this cuff, it won't sit properly," Frodo said in annoyance as he stepped out of his bedroom, dressed in a fine, white linen shirt, and black dress trousers with the vest over the top of the shirt.  
  
For a moment there was stunned silence from his family and friends as they stood back, and admired just how handsome the young hobbit looked and how the blue of the vest just seemed to blend so well with the blue of his eyes.  
  
"Uncle?" Frodo said, only looking up now after not receiving a response to his request. He felt his cheeks redden slightly as he became a little unnerved by all of the gentle stares he was getting. He smiled at them all, enhancing his appearance even further.  
  
"My boy, you look positively splendid," Bilbo said honestly and then stepped forward to help his nephew with the troublesome cuff button.  
  
"You really do look ever so handsome, Mr Frodo," Sam said, adding his own compliments. Frodo's hair had been brushed to a sheen, and the curls fell into the correct place, framing his pale face, and extenuating his charm and good looks.  
  
"Are you going to wear your black jacket this early in the evening, Frodo?" Bilbo asked innocently, hoping that he wouldn't so as not to spoil the effect of the blue vest before he reached the party field.  
  
"No, I think not, Uncle. The night is not so chilly yet, and the jacket will only become cumbersome when the dancing commences," Frodo stated, not really reading anymore into Bilbo's remarks.  
  
"Just take it with you and you can put it on later in the evening when you need it," Bilbo suggested. "Everyone ready to go?"  
  
"Unfair, I tell you, unfair," Merry said, as he looked at his older cousin. Even with his new vest, he and Pippin didn't come anywhere up to scratch standing next to Frodo in all of his finery. Pippin just nodded his head in agreement, and Sam and Strider laughed a moment at them and the frowns of frustration on their faces.  
  
"Gandalf, my old friend, this will be a night to remember," Bilbo commented, as they all started heading out of Bag End, and down the path towards the party field.  
  
TO BE CONTINUED.....  
  
Boy that was a long chapter .. Sorry for the length, I just needed to get to here because this story is turning out to be longer and longer. I apologize for the length of time to update, but I have so much on my plate that I have been unable to do it any quicker.  
  
The whole idea of the carved figurines is that I need to identify now that Frodo is able to carve things from wood. It will be mentioned periodically throughout the other stories as I go along but will be particularly used once the Fellowship has left Rivendell. I needed to explain now rather than later. The gift giving was just a fun way I thought of introducing another of Frodo's hidden talents.  
  
Thank you to the wonderful people who had input, ideas or any other help with this chapter. There are a few and your assistance is most appreciated. Paid for in mushrooms.  
  
The next chapter will deal with the party itself and the aftermath of Bilbo's leaving. Then finally we can get to the good bits. I hope nobody is bored with this story yet. Please let me know what you think.  
  
JULES 


	7. Celebrations and Goodbye

ESCAPE THE DARKNESS

**By JULES**

**Authors Quick Note – **This story explores the idea about what might have happened if Strider had come to the Shire to forewarn Bilbo Baggins about the Ring Wraiths that would soon come hunting for the One Ring. Commences a few days before Bilbo's Birthday party and before Gandalf returns to the shire as well. 

Strider had vows to protect Bilbo when the Ring Wraiths are sent by the Dark Lord but he is unaware that the legacy of who is to carry the Ring to be destroyed falls upon a totally different Baggins hobbit. 

**Disclaimer -  I do not own any of these characters but enjoy writing them and their adventures together.**

Once again this chapter is a long one – but hopefully will keep you entertained.

Please let me know if you are enjoying this story.    Some of the historical points of the story are my own interpretation and might waver slightly from the book.

Merry and Pippin have minor roles in this chapter and they will soon be disappearing all together for a time, until the cornfields.

I always thought that there was not enough emphasis on what Frodo would feel after Bilbo left.  Although he is suppose to be a grown hobbit now, you cannot live with someone that long and not feel a sense of loss when they leave you

unexpectedly.

The next chapter will see Gandalf's explanation about the ring's past and future.

All will be preparing to leave the Shire very soon.   The darkness will soon

descend on the Shire.

**Celebrations and Goodbyes**

By the time everyone arrived at the party field, many of the guests had already begun enjoying themselves.

It truly was a grand turn out, better than Frodo or Bilbo could have ever hoped for.   And to the credit of the organizers, every hobbit within sight, seemed to be enjoying the party and, having a marvellous time.

As the group entered the party field, it was difficult to gauge which direction to go off in first.   There were tables and tables of fine food.   Some dishes foreign to hobbits of the Shire, but, being savoured and devoured with no less vigour, than any of the more common dishes.

Merry and Pippin threw caution to the wind and, were the first to desert the group,

seeking out the food and filling a plate as full as they dared.   They got a laugh from Strider and Bilbo at their seemingly endless ravenous appetites and their amusing antics.

Gandalf and Strider paired together, feeling the curious and criticizing eyes of the 

other party guests on the _big folk.   _They thought it better to keep a more subdued

profile for a while and sat contently on the outer edge of the crowd.   Strider slowly sipping at a mug of ale, the wizard was more satisfied with a cup of tea for a beverage.

Bilbo, had been ambushed by a large group of children and, was happily sitting in

front of the little hobbits, sharing his adventurous tales and stories of bravery from

many years ago.

Sam and Frodo had seated themselves together at a table much closer to the festivities and the dancing going on.    Sam had gotten up briefly to get a mug of ale for both his master and himself.  Upon returning, he was a little surprised to see the bench seat now vacant.    Frodo's jacket lying idly nearby, indicating that he intended to return.

Much to Sam's delight, there was a cheer from the boisterous crowd and as he looked around at those present, he saw the reason for the gaiety.   Frodo was now up on the dance floor, amidst a large number of other hobbits, merrily dancing with a few of the lasses and thoroughly enjoying himself.

Just when the music would stop and Frodo paused to take in a breath of fresh air, the band behind them would whirl into a tune that would set his feet off again.   Another lass would take him by the hand and start the dancing off all over again.

The smile on Frodo's face was a genuine one.   It was his birthday after all, and his becoming of age.   There he was, without a care in the world at the moment, or none that others could see anyway.  

Just as the next dance was halfway through, Sam found himself staring at one of the lasses, as if struck.    He knew who she was of course:  Rose Cotton.  No fairer lass of the Shire he had come to know.   She was pretty, polite and sent Sam's mind into a spin with just a simple glance.

Sam could feel the tips of his ears beginning to redden at seeing her standing there.   Tonight she was dressed as finely as every other hobbit at the party, but somehow in his eyes, she stood out amongst the crowd like no other.    Her dress seemed to compliment her blond hair and shimmer beneath the lanterns that adorned the tree.

Frodo came back to the table and breathlessly sat down beside Sam after another

round of vigorous dancing and enjoyment.   Whilst he picked up his mug of ale and looked over at Sam, he couldn't help but noticed the stunned expression on his friend's face.   He looked towards where Sam was staring and instantly recognized the signs of nervousness and rapture.

"_Go on Sam, ask Rosie for a dance," Frodo suggested, knowing that Sam would never voluntarily make such a decision.   He had to be gently coaxed, although it was plain to see just how much he adored her._

"Um, _I think I will just have another ale," Sam replied, attempting to rise to his feet and turn to head towards the ale casks.   He wanted to talk to her more than ever, and even Mr Frodo saw this.   But Sam didn't want to put himself into an awkward position where he embarrassed both himself and Rose by stumbling over his own feet or words much fancier that he was used to uttering.   _

Sam rising to his feet, was all of the encouragement that Frodo needed.  "_Oh no you don't" _he said and nudged his stout friend towards the dance floor.   His aim had been perfectly timed, and no sooner as Sam had taken the first tumbled step forward, Rosie Cotton had passed by and gently took his hand.    The two were now dancing around in a circle with the other hobbits, Rosie leading the way but not minding in the least.

Sam wasn't quite sure how to react at first.    After the first circle of dancing, his nerves seemed to calm down a lot and as he looked back at his smiling Rosie, started to give a grin of satisfaction in return.    He now wrapped his arms around her waist and joined in the joy of the moment.

Frodo watched on with great happiness for Rosie and his best friend.   There was just something about watching them two together that made it seem like they were meant to be.  He didn't know else to describe it.   He had watched Sam's nervous face on a number of times even just passing Rosie in the street.   

It was at that time, watching his best friend dance around the field with someone he cared about that Frodo realised there was no-one that special in his own life.   Not that he had sought the company of lasses in the past.   Frodo wondered if there was supposed to be someone special for him like Rosie.

There were certain qualities he assumed that would be immediately noticeable, both on the outside and the ones that were not so easily seen by others.  There needed to be an air of mystery surrounding her that would compel him to what to know her from the very beginning, until the very end.  To share everything in their lives, the joy, the sadness, the pain and the happiness.

If there was, what would she look like? What would her hair smell like?  What would her kiss taste like upon his lips.   If they were to meet somewhere for the first time, would it be memorable, or would it be a moment in time that could just pass him by because he didn't recognize the one whose soul mirrored his own.

What if love was meant to pass him by like a stranger in the street?  What if he was destined to live alone and never know what it felt like to be loved and needed?

With Sam and Rose dancing, Frodo decided it was as good an opportunity as any to escape the ever-watchful gaze of his friend and talk to some of the other guests.   He hadn't seen any sign of Merry or Pippin since they arrived, but wasn't disappointed, knowing that those two cousins of his would surface sooner or later.  

"Are you enjoying your party Frodo?" Gandalf asked as the hobbit passed by the table occupied by himself and Strider.   He noted the happy expression on the young hobbit's face and couldn't be more pleased to see him associating with family and friends and hobbits of his own age.

"Doesn't Sam and Rosie look great out on the dance floor," Frodo declared with excitement in his voice.    

"They certainly do Frodo, but are you sure you shouldn't be joining them for a little while longer?" Gandalf asked, somehow picking up on his friend's secret in-depth thoughts as he watched Sam and Rosie.

"Oh no thanks, I am still trying to get my breath back Gandalf.   I was just going to wander around and say hello to some of the other guests at the party.  It would be rude of me not to try and at least spend some time with them," Frodo replied.

"Well, you do what you think necessary Frodo, but remember, this is _your birthday.  Enjoy yourself and the company of others, but do not worry if they are not having such a splendid time," Gandalf said, using a little wisdom in his words._

"Thanks Gandalf, I will go and see if I can drag Uncle Bilbo away from his stories long enough to enjoy the party as well," Frodo informed the two.   "No doubt Sam will be looking around in a few minutes, asking where I have gone to."

"Oh don't worry about Samwise; he looks fairly occupied at the moment, Frodo,"

Gandalf commented.  "If he asks, I will tell him to get some dinner ready for you

and that you will be back here shortly."

Frodo rolled his eyes exaggeratedly at the mention of food.  He knew Gandalf was trying to politely remind him that he hadn't partaken in any of the party food since they had arrived.     He had had very little to drink as well, from what the wizard had seen.    He didn't want to disappoint anyone by telling them food and drink was not exactly a high priority on his list tonight.   

Frodo now went to walk towards his Uncle Bilbo, giving the older hobbit a quick

wave to try and attract his attention.    Bilbo almost succeeded in separating himself from his avid, young audience, but was thwarted at the last moment and gave his nephew a smirk of satisfaction.   

Both he and Frodo knew that Bilbo got an extreme amount of pleasure out of telling stories to younger generations and reminiscing of adventures of distant places.   What was the point in writing all of his stories down in the Red Book if they weren't shared with others?   

Frodo was patient enough to wait until Bilbo had pried himself away.  He was about to take a muffin from a tray on a nearby table, when he heard a familiar voice behind him.

"Well, if it isn't young Frodo Brandybuck," Lobelia Sackville-Bagginses said in her grating voice.   She never tired of reminding the tween that he was descended more correctly from family branches she would rather not associate.  That and the fact that he didn't belong in Hobbiton.

"Good evening to you, Aunt Lobelia," Frodo greeted her, his polite manners rolling of his tongue naturally.   He smiled inwardly a little, knowing that it irked her to pieces to have him ignore her harsh comments as much as possible.

"Where is that old Uncle of yours?" Lobelia asked, scouting around to try and locate the old hobbit.    "This party scene must be quite tiring for somebody his age," she jibed.

"Uncle Bilbo is over there, telling stories to the children, Aunt Lobelia," Frodo replied courteously.   "I think it must be the children that keep him looking so refreshed and young.   The more stories he tells them, the more animated he becomes.  He truly has some stamina in him you know."

Just as Frodo felt like he wanted to escape the conversation entirely, the situation became even more awkward as Lotho and Otho now joined Lobelia.   

"Hello there cousin, Frodo," Lotho greeted.  "I hope you are not too bruised by that nasty tumble you took earlier this afternoon," he added.

"You were lucky to have someone there like my Lotho, or you might have been hurt worse," Lobelia said, trying to hide the smile she had worn when her son first told her about Frodo's mishap with the tent.   She scowled that it hadn't been nasty enough to keep either Frodo or Bilbo Baggins away from the party celebration altogether.

_Lucky!  _Frodo though to himself.   There were probably a plethora of descriptive words he could have used to describe what had happened, but _lucky _wasn't one of them.

"Thank you for your concern, but I assure you that no harm came to me and I am quite alright," Frodo informed them.  In the back of his mind he couldn't help but see the distained faces of Uncle Bilbo and Sam at Lotho's cowardly conduct.

Just as Frodo was trying to think of a way to escape the conversation, Sam spotted

his master standing in front of the Sackville-Bagginses.    He couldn't hear what was being said from where he was, and Frodo seemed to have a smile on his face rather than a frown.   

Something though wasn't quite right for Sam and he didn't want there to be unkind or harsh words spoken to Frodo on his birthday.    He excused himself from Rosie and after rolling up the sleeves on his shirt, strode towards the group.

Sam had passed by the table where Gandalf and Strider were seated, both of them

taking in the distained and disapproving look on the stout hobbit's face.  Neither of them wanted any trouble to be ensuing this early in the evening, so the Ranger got up and trailed Sam towards Frodo.

Bilbo had by now, also spotted Frodo being surrounded by the Sackville-Bagginses.  The gentle natured hobbit, felt a small ball of anger start to rise within him when he thought back to when Frodo had first come through the door that afternoon.   He remembered the winces of pain from the lad as he tried to hide the fact that he had been the victim of a callous prank.

By the time he came to stand behind Frodo, Bilbo squeezed his way underneath

Strider's arm to stand slightly in front of Sam and directly behind his nephew.

"Bilbo, I was just saying to Frodo how concerned I was for someone of your age to be out on such a chilly night," Lobelia said, changing what she had actually said to Frodo.

"Don't worry yourself about me Lobelia, I assure you that I am as fit as a fiddle

and plenty prepared to have a grand time tonight," Bilbo said, giving Frodo a wry

smile and wink. 

"Umph, and I see you have spared no expense nonetheless either Bilbo," Lobelia

said with disgust in her voice as she took a closer inspection of Frodo's fine

blue brocaded vest.   "Sheer waste of money I would say."

"I know that's what you would say Lobelia, but it's none of your business what money I spend on Frodo, nor anything else in my home for that matter.   Frodo never asks for anything and I will buy whatever I please with _my _money," Bilbo said, his voice getting a little more animated as he spoke.

Frodo was suddenly very uncomfortable being the topic of conversation and wished to be away from the situation all together as soon as possible.   Sam saw the expression on his master's face and was trying to make a clear path for him to escape.  

"Don't pretend either, Lotho, that I don't know what truly happened down here this afternoon between you and that tent," Bilbo said warningly, turning his attention to the younger Sackville-Bagginses.

"Bilbo Baggins, don't you dare start accusing my son of such a hideous crime when you know fully well that you have no such proof," Lobelia said in defence of her son.

"He tripped over his own two big feet," Lotho said, deliberately taking a step towards Frodo, acting out a threatening stance, daring his cousin to say anything to the contrary.

Frodo felt the tips of his ears reddening with a slow boiling anger as he faced Lotho.   His cousin was about 4 years older than him and a great deal bigger, but that didn't deter Frodo's challenging and piercing blue gaze.   

A small voice in the back of his head was reminding him that he supposed to be acting like a gentle-hobbit tonight in front of his party guests.  To cause a scene now would be most improper and disrespectful.   He had no intention of ruining Bilbo's birthday by getting into a fight with Lotho Sackville-Baggins for the sake of his pride.

Frodo came up with the perfect response.   Hobbits like Lotho thrived on being the centre of attention in moments such as this.  The trick to catching them out was to make the wind out of their sails without drawing the focus back to himself.

"If you will all please excuse me," Frodo said, deliberately waiting until a pathway was made between the group for him to leave, directly alongside of Lotho.   "Uncle, I have better things to do with my time tonight than to waste such a good evening on those who cannot see the truth for the lies that they allows themselves to tell."

With that, Frodo turned abruptly, but deliberately from Lotho and his mother Lobelia, pausing for a split second so they were left with only gaping mouths at his apparent rudeness.   Lotho knew he could not say too much for fear of incriminating himself in front of those who knew what had really happened.

This, however, did not stop Lotho's own anger quickly rise to the surface as he realised that he had been brushed off so easily in front of a moderate crowd.    Frodo was only two or three steps in front, with his back turned.  Plenty of time to narrow the gap and be in receipt of the blow that Lotho wished to deliver to his unsuspecting cousin.

Lotho clenched his right fist into a tight ball, and then gritted his teeth, ready to make the short distance towards Frodo.    Sam however had gasped in alarm as he saw what Lotho intended to do and was thankful that Strider was a little faster than all of them expected.

Lotho had brought his arm back, wanting to have some power behind his impending punch.   His arm and clenched fist were engulfed in the meaty palm of the towering Ranger.

Lobelia and Bilbo seemed to be taking part in their own heated discussion and did

not notice what was unfolding between the Ranger and other hobbits.   Frodo was

now out of ear shot, heading towards one of the marquees.

No words were spoken between them.   Strider used his intense grey eyes to show 

the displeasure he would get from seeing his friend Frodo attacked at his own birthday party in front of his friends and family.    Lotho looked into those smouldering eyes and swallowed nervously, the lump of fear that was suddenly lodged in his throat.

"Lotho don't you raise your fist to my master," Sam said, too incensed to be concerned that he was talking to somebody higher in social class in such a condescending tone.

Merry and Pippin were just passing by when they saw the cross look on Strider's face and heard the accusing words from Sam.    Neither of them knew what had transpired, but they knew with Lotho involved, that it couldn't be good.   They were well aware that it was Lotho that had caused the accident earlier that afternoon.

Strider briefly glanced towards Frodo's two younger cousins, and quickly got an idea of how to diffused the situation without having to cause a scene in front of the other party guests.   He could see that Merry and Pippin would only be too willing to participate where they could.

"Sam, you wait here for Frodo, with the help of Merry and Pippin here, I hope to

discover the location of that large muddy puddle that was spoken of earlier today," the Ranger said, pleased that it didn't take much nous to work out what it would be used for.

Apart from waiting for Frodo, Sam had used his stout body to intercede between himself and Lobelia, should she assess the situation and realise what was about to be done to her son.   For the moment, she seemed to preoccupied in shouting at Bilbo.

The struggling Lotho, protesting the entire way, but at a respectable level so as not to have an audience witness what was about to befall him.  "You can't do this," he said trying to pry his arm from Strider's firm grasp.

"I warned you what would happen next time you attempted to bring harm to Frodo," Strider reminded him.   Surrounding the party field, was a crude timber fence.  At the furthest gateway, due to recent heavy rains, a large muddy puddle had formed.  So much so that many of the guests had been forced to use an alternative entrance for fear of sinking into the murky water in their fine clothes.

Lotho had no time to worry about his fine clothes before he felt himself hoisted by Strider's two arms and tossed only a short distance into the middle of the puddle.   The hobbit landed on his backside, much to the delight of Merry and Pippin who were weak with laughter.  

Lotho brought his hands out of the muddy water, the silt from the bottom of the

puddle, dripping from his hands and soaking through every inch of his clothes.

Lobelia had shrieked out loud, half way through a sentence when she saw her

son being man-handled by the Ranger and tossed into the muddy puddle.  She

quickly shoved Bilbo roughly aside to get to him.   

"Mark my words, Bilbo Baggins, that nephew of yours is going to get what's

coming to him, mark my words," Lobelia screamed.   She then turned her attention to the sodden and muddy Lotho.  

Bilbo had a thoughtful look on his face at her words.  "Yes, Lobelia, I will see

to it tonight that Frodo gets everything that is coming to him."   He had whispered

the words to himself, but was unaware that Sam now had a slight frown marring

his normally cheerful face, wondering what Bilbo had meant by such a statement.

As Lobelia approached Lotho, at first she had nothing but sympathy and pity in her voice as she hauled her son out of the puddle.   As soon as she could see that he was fairing alright and was without any permanent injury, her words soon turned into scathing ones as she asked why Lotho had let those like Frodo and his cousins get the better of him.

Lobelia had no intention of missing any part of the party herself, but quickly sent 

Lotho on his way back to their house to get changed out of his clothes.   She soon

spotted her husband Otho and soon joined him, make sure that she informed others at the party of the despicable acts that had been allowed to occur to her son.

"Now, that was a little bit awkward wasn't it Samwise," Bilbo commented, trying to get everyone back into a more cheerful mood.   "I can't see where Frodo has gotten to now," he added, peering in the direction he had last seen his nephew walking in.

"I can go and find him for you Sir," Sam said, getting a little concerned himself that maybe Lotho had upset his master more than Frodo had let on.

"Oh no need Sam, tell you what; you go and get three mugs of ale and a table and

I will find Frodo and steer him over to it to join us," Bilbo suggested.   What he 

really wanted to do was find Frodo and have a very important talk with him. 

He needed to have Sam away long enough for that to occur.

"If you say so Master Bilbo," Sam said, not wanting to do as the old hobbit wanted, but rather wanting to go and look for Frodo himself, just to make sure in his own mind that everything was fine.

Strider had accompanied Sam back to the ale casks, happy that the situation was

now calmer and everything seemed to be returning to normal.    He was not sure

where Frodo had walked of to, but knew that Bilbo wouldn't let any more trouble

ensue.

***************************************************************

"Ah, there you are Frodo, my lad," Bilbo said as he entered one of the marquees

after his nephew.

"I sincerely hope that you didn't take any of Lobelia's words to heart lad," Bilbo added, knowing that Frodo was a gentle person by nature and such nasty comments might unsettle him some.

"Oh no Uncle," Frodo said, a little too enthusiastically.   In truth, he had felt a trifle unnerved by the whole confrontation by Lotho and Lobelia, but would rather just walk away from such situations.

Frodo was expecting Bilbo to try and cheer him up a little, but saw that his Uncle was struggling with his own emotions at the moment.   The old hobbit was holding the bottom of his coat jacket in both hands and twisting them out of nervousness.   

Frodo's brow frowned at his Uncle's demeanour and for a moment the younger hobbit that it must have been Bilbo that had taken the words of the Sackville-Bagginses too much to heart.

Bilbo went to open his mouth again, but stopped, lost for the right words to say.  This had been the moment he had been dreading for so long.  Trying to tell Frodo gently about his plans to leave.   He knew it would be difficult but he never dreamed as he looked at his nephew's innocent face that it would this hard or painful.

"Are you alright Uncle?" Frodo asked quickly, walking closer to Bilbo to gauge if he was ill or something and hadn't voiced it to anybody at the party yet.   "Should I get you something to drink or eat?" he added quickly.

"Oh nothing like Frodo, my lad, I am fine I assure you," Bilbo said, seeing the concern in his nephew's eyes.   "It's just I have something to tell you before any more of the evening is lost.  I should have done it a long time ago.  Heaven only knows there has been plenty of time leading up to now.  But, in typical fashion for me as you know, I leave everything until the last minute and rush it."

"What have you to tell me?" Frodo asked, noting the distinct smell of ale on Bilbo's breath, indicating that he had at least enjoyed some of the refreshments from the party.

For a moment Bilbo just looked at his nephew.   Looking into those soulful blue eyes and wondering what emotion or reaction he was about to see within those limpid pools.   Bilbo knew that he would be able to see the entire spectral of emotions from Frodo in those wide blue eyes.

"I am sorry my lad, for all my learning of foreign languages and poetry; when it becomes necessary to find the right words, I feel so tongue-tied," Bilbo said, forcing his gaze towards the ground beneath their feet.

"You're beginning to worry me a little, Bilbo" Frodo said honestly, not being able to guess at the solemn tone in his Uncle's voice.

With his gaze still fixated on the ground, Bilbo tried to begin his explanation.  

"Frodo, when you came to Bag End all those years ago, I never made my intentions………….."   _Stickle-bats  he_ said silently, still finding the task increasingly difficult.

Frodo was beginning to think that maybe Bilbo had over indulged in the Gaffer's cask of home made brew, but didn't want to voice his opinion out loud.

Bilbo started again, this time using an alternative topic.   "When your parents died

twelve years ago………….," when he said these words, he looked up and almost physically kicked himself for bringing up the lad's parents on what was supposed to be a joyous occasion.   He knew deep down that the one subject that would upset Frodo more than any others was talk of his parents.

"Oh, dear Frodo, I am sorry lad, I didn't think when I brought that up just now," his voice soft and gentle, as he saw Frodo's blue eyes begin to mist over with tears.   "They would have been very proud of the way you have grown into such a kind and gentle hobbit," he said, trying to smooth over the painful subject with positive sentiments.

"It's alright Uncle, but why do you suddenly want to talk to me about my parents?" Frodo said, only then did a dark thought beginning to emerge. 

"Well, tonight is your coming of age celebration and I just thought I would tell you how proud of you I have become and I am sure that your parents, if they were alive here to share the night with you would agree," Bilbo replied, trying to keep his composure.

Frodo's frown eased a little and he seemed almost willing to accept the explanation given, but something about the way Bilbo was still wringing his hands nervously and trying to talk in riddles made him think something was amiss.

Before any more awkwardness could unfold between Frodo and Bilbo, two scurrying figures came running through one end of the marquee, in an attempt to flee out the other side.    Something or somebody bumped into Frodo's shoulder and it was only when he heard a surprised gasp that he recognized the voice of Pippin.

"Pippin?" Frodo said out loud, wondering what the two hobbits were doing running about at such a late hour.   "Where is Merry?" he immediately asked, knowing that where there was one, the other wouldn't be too far behind.

"Here I am Frodo," Merry said cheerfully.   It was only then that Merry sensed the unease surrounding Frodo and Bilbo and knew that he and Pippin had interrupted something important.

"You go with your cousins, Frodo lad," Bilbo said, knowing that the words he wanted to say would never leave his lips.   

"Come on, Frodo, you are missing your own birthday party," Pippin exclaimed enthusiastically, dragging his older, reluctant relative by the cuff of his shirt sleeve.  Frodo allowed himself to be directed out of the marquee, but before he headed out into the moon light, he turned to his Uncle, giving his best and most affectionate smile.

As Bilbo watched the brief and fleeting glances afforded to him from Frodo's azure coloured eyes, he couldn't help but feel like he was letting something get away from him.   He knew that Frodo could look after himself; he had been doing so for quite a long time now.

The elderly hobbit couldn't escape the realisation that a part of him would leave with Frodo as he exited the tent.  He was losing something that should be cherished and treasured and someone who had brought so much joy and fulfilment to his life. Perhaps not forever, but the void that would be left behind in his heart was wider than any chasm in Middle Earth.

 As he watched the exuberance and energy of Merry and Pippin, Bilbo knew that his nephew would be in good hands, come what may.   Then of course, there was the ever loyal Samwise, for whom he was very thankful in befriending Frodo.  Sam would be there whenever Frodo needed him, he could be certain of that.

It was at that moment that Bilbo came to realise that he would never be able to tell 

Frodo goodbye face to face.   He didn't know how his nephew would react.  No doubt there would be a whole assortment of emotions, sadness at first and then as the initial shock wore off, maybe anger.

He couldn't blame Frodo for any anger if that was to happen.   Whatever the outcome, his heart was heavy for the guilt in knowing that he was the cause.   He would be taking away any sense of security that had been built up during the time he had been living at Bag End.  All these years he had promised to love, protect and shelter the lad from harm; now he would be the one to cause the lad shock, hurt and sadness.  

_"You'll be alright, Frodo," _Bilbo whispered.

The elderly hobbit  was then seen to be leaving the tent to find that mug of ale that

he had asked Sam for a little while ago.

***********************************************************

"Merry, Pippin!" Frodo said out loud in an exasperated voice.  "Where are we going?" but almost before he could get the completed question out of his mouth, Frodo found himself standing outside the marquee on this own and the scurrying figures of his two wayward cousins running off towards something else that had caught their attention at the party.

By this time, Sam was becoming a little bit concerned as to where his master might have gotten to.    He was just in time to run into Merry and Pippin and politely asked if they had seen their darker-haired cousin within the last few minutes.

"Beggin your pardons Mr Merry and Mr Pippin, but I was get a might worried about where Mr Frodo had taken himself too.   Not that he has to tell me where he wants to go or such, not that at all, seeing as he is a grown hobbit now and can do what he pleases," Sam said.

Merry and Pippin couldn't help laugh at the way Sam always took the longest route to say the simplest things or ask a brief question.    They knew he meant well though and was only concerned in Frodo's best interests.

"We just left him over by that marquee over there a few minutes ago, Sam," Merry informed the stocky hobbit.  "He seemed a little sad about something, though."

"Sad?" Sam said with concern in the tone of his voice and a slight frown on his face.  "Now you two young hobbits wouldn't have said anything to go upsetting him by accident now would you?" he added.

"No, he was talking to Bilbo about something secret like and had a strange look on his face and was thinking hard about something." Pippin replied.  "Maybe he is worried about something," he suggested.

At about that time, Merry and Pippin decided that Frodo would be in good hands with Sam and now headed off in great haste towards the food tables and the band playing.

Sam decided not to waste any more time on pursuing Merry and Pippin to ask them what they meant by their comments.  His sole purpose now was to find Frodo and try and fix whatever was upsetting his master.

Sam found Frodo standing outside the marquee, just like his cousin's had said he was.   He was looking a little confused and saddened.   His blue eyes seemed to be a little misty, like he was on the verge of crying.  This distressed the gardener even more.   There was nothing that tore at his heart strings more than seeing tears fall from those cornflower blue eyes.

"Mr Frodo," Sam said, approaching his master with a little caution and concern.

Frodo, obviously hadn't heard his friend's footsteps though and almost jumped back as if startled when he saw Sam's warm brown eyes looking back at him.

"Sam, sorry I was just thinking," Frodo offered in apology, taking in the concerned look on his friend's face. 

"What were you thinking about Mr Frodo, if you don't mind me asking?" Sam queried.   This question was exactly the one that Frodo had wanted to avoid.

"I was talking to Bilbo and he trying to tell me something, but stopped half way through a sentence.  Almost as if it was difficult for him to say," Frodo explained.   "At first I thought he must have had some of your old Gaffer's home brew."

Sam smiled at this reference, knowing that there weren't too many hobbits in the Shire that could out do too many tankards of the Gaffer's secret recipe.

"He's got me worried Sam," Frodo admitted openly.  "He was talking about things that he wouldn't normally talk about so easily.   Like my parents.  He mentioned them tonight.   Do you know how long it has been since he brought up that subject?" Frodo asked, his eyes becoming a little clouded at the mention of their memory again.

Sam nodded in agreement, knowing just how painful a subject that was for Frodo even now so many years since that fateful day.   He wondered why Master Bilbo has chosen this of all days to bring up such a topic of conversation for Mr Frodo.

"Come on Mr Frodo, lets go and sit down at the table I have prepared for us and get something to eat and drink," Sam now suggested.   To tell the truth he had gotten the table ready for Bilbo and Frodo as he had been asked to, but now that seemed irrelevant.

"I didn't mean to sound so down-hearted tonight, Sam," Frodo said to his friend in apology.

"Naught to worry about Mr Frodo, it's your birthday, you can celebrate it anyway you like," Sam said in return.   

Frodo smiled back, but deep in his heart he didn't feel much like celebrating anymore tonight.   His trail of thought was interrupted along with everyone else's when there was a huge explosion over their heads.

Every hobbit at the party looked skyward to see a dazzling firework exploding right before their eyes and spreading out over the night like a million stars.

Some of the older folk were a little afraid of such loud explosions of light and colour.   But the hobbit lads and lasses were most impressed with the display in the sky and clapped and cheered when each rocket broke apart and spread across the sky in sparkling chains and ribbons of light.

Frodo looked over at Sam's face and saw the same look of surprise, admiration and excitement that was written across many of the children at the party.   This made Frodo's mood lighten even more, knowing that it was simple joys in life that Sam enjoyed.  Just like his garden and the things he made grow within it.   

Nothing was more simpler than the fertile soils around the Shire.   Sam was able to grow vegetables much bigger than any other hobbit in the shire, except maybe Farmer Maggot.   His flower beds bloomed almost nine months of the year and even in winter when the land was void of most living things, there was always some form of life present, just under the surface.    

"I bet there is nobody else who could light up the night sky like Gandalf does," Sam commented.   More rockets exploded in the night sky and Sam's smile grew wider and wider at the wondrous sights.

"No I don't suppose there is," Frodo agreed.   He now turned to his friend, knowing that there was something that needed to be said.  "Sam, I just want to say thank you for helping me celebrate my birthday tonight."

Sam turned to his master and forgot all about the fireworks for a few seconds.   "You don't need to thank me, Mr Frodo.  Nothing could have kept me away tonight."   So much more was said between the two friends without words, both using their eyes and smiles to share their feelings and thoughts.

While the crowd of hobbits were content enough to gaze skywards, Merry and Pippin were up to trying to make a display of their own.   Merry had been the brains behind the stunt, but Pippin had shown no hesitation in being dragged along into trouble.

"Is the coast clear yet, Pippin?" Merry asked, trying to peer out from behind a marquee flap where they were currently hiding.

Pippin looked about, making sure that everyone at the party was momentarily distracted by Gandalf's fireworks to see what they were up to.   Nothing too sinister, they were just a little too curious for their own good.    They wanted to know what other pyrotechnics were being concealed under the canvas cover of the wizard's wagon.

"I think so, Merry," Pippin said, not too convincingly.    "Gandalf is over there lighting up fireflies for the children.  Let's hurry before he turns around and catches us."

Merry crept out from underneath the canvas marquee and slinked his way long towards the wagon that was only a few feet away.   All he needed to do was get Pippin to keep watch and then grab one of the rockets.    _Easy enough he told himself._

When he finally reached the rear of the wagon, it became all too clear that he would need Pippin's help to get a foot hold and successfully be able to climb into where the rockets lay.

"Pippin," Merry tried to call out just above a whisper.    He looked around and sighed in relief when it seemed that nobody else was taking any notice of what was happening apart from the display in the sky.    From where he stood near the wagon, Merry could clearly pick out the curly dark head of Frodo and was thankful that he too seemed to be distracted by the noise of the crowd and the acrid smoky smell of the fireworks.

Pippin heard his cousin's call and scurried his way to the wagon.  "Are you sure we should be doing this Merry?" he asked, knowing that Gandalf would be most upset if they were caught out.  He didn't like to think too long about what the wizard's wrath would be.  They had already been on the receiving end of his anger one too many times today.

"Here, give me a boost up," Merry said, grabbing hold on the side of the wagon and lifting up his foot, ready to climb into the wagon.  Pippin did as he was asked, but with a little more vigour than Merry was looking for.   He gave his younger cousin a scowl when he landed heavily amongst the many different firework rockets and crackers.

"Hurry up, Merry," Pippin said almost immediately, giving Merry little chance to take a good look at which rocket would be best.   Pippin just wanted to get out of there before they were seen.

"All right, give me a second," Merry said, showing his displeasure at being rushed.

"Oh, here is one," Merry exclaimed, a little too loudly for Pippin's liking.   Of course, being Merry, his eyes fell onto one of the larger rockets, different in shape from the others.

Merry started passing the rocket out and escape with their find.  Pippin was a little alarmed at the size of the firework that his cousin had chosen.  After all, neither of them had any experience in lighting fireworks and letting them go into the air.   

Pippin quickly grabbed the rocket and then dashed back into the marquee where they had come from.   Merry was only a few feet behind, jumping down off the wagon and then trying to back away as if nothing was going on, making himself stand out even more if he were to be spotted.

"Well then, Mr Frodo, time to get something to drink I would say," Sam began to say as the firework display started to pieta out.   All had been very entertained by the rockets and some were still smiling and clapping to applaud Gandalf's efforts.

Frodo had only taken a step or two in front of Sam when there was an enormous explosion from the rear of the party field.   Being unskilled as they were, Merry and Pippin had ignited the firing cord inside one of the marquees, unaware that the rocket needed to travel upwards before letting go in a dazzling performance.

All at the party flinched upon hearing the noise and some had even let go a squeal of fright.  The ground had shook from the vibration and Sam had instinctively reached out a hand in case Frodo was to loose his footing.   He could see Frodo flinch at the sound, and wonder like everyone else what has happened.

Gandalf had stopped halfway through his demonstration to the children, knowing that he had not lit any further firework rockets.   Aragorn had jumped up from a table nearby and had a combat ready expression on his face, in case the hobbits were under threat from some unseen foe.

Suddenly all could hear the sound of a rocket spiralling out of control into the air, higher and higher.  Some relaxed when they thought that it was the finale that Gandalf had planned all along.    Others were not so sure, watched, still slightly on edge.

The rocket burst apart into lights of red and orange, and seemed to come together to form some sort of pattern.   All gasped in shock as they now could see what appeared to be the fiery image of a dragon, swooping down upon the party field, ready to sweep away all in its path.

Some of the hobbits had already begun running on mass, knocking over tables and chairs.  The chaos escalated and hobbits were falling over each other to try and escape the terror they thought was coming down at them from the sky.

Aragorn and Gandalf had tried to calm the terrified crowd, but were overwhelmed by the hundred or so hobbits present at the party.    Thankfully Sam and Frodo were towards the pack and they were not in any real danger of being trampled by the crowd.

This didn't stop Sam's protectiveness towards his master shine through though.   Frodo had seen the fiery dragon and had started to walk quickly to try and escape it's path.

"Look out Mr Frodo!" Sam shouted.   Sam had been a little more forthright in his efforts  when the beast made it's final swoop, he had roughly pushed Frodo to the ground.   Sam then joined his master and the rest of the hobbits, belly first on the ground, watching as the large fiery ball flew overhead and then over the Bywater River.  

The ball flipped over and over until it was almost out of sight, and then without warning, exploded into a million stars of light.  Brighter and bigger than all of the rockets they had seen tonight.    Knowing that they were now of out danger, the hobbits sat up on the grass and clapped and cheered.

Frodo and Sam too were laughing with each other as they struggled to right themselves.   "Oh I am sorry Mr Frodo," Sam now apologized, forgetting all about his master's new birthday gift, the blue vest.

"No harm done Sam," Frodo assured his friend as he got to his feet and brushed away some of the blades of grass that had clung to the fabric.   He was rather grateful that there was no staining to be seen.   The brocade still looked it's finest.    Sam helped out, brushing away any stubborn pieces of grass from the back.    The satin still shone out its brilliant blue azure colour.

"You alright Sam?" Frodo asked, knowing that Sam had dived rather hard towards the ground at the last second. 

"Just fine Mr Frodo," Sam said with a smile.   

Frodo's smile faded when he saw a very displeased figure of Gandalf striding quickly over to where his wagon was situated, towards one of the marquees that had been flattened by the explosion.   Some of the canvas fabric was now charred around the edges and singed from the sudden heat.

 A sinking feeling already began in the pit of Frodo's stomach at whom might be responsible for such a prank.   He knew as the responsible cousin that it was his place to see that blame be accurately placed and punishment given that fitted the crime.

Sam followed his master, the two of them arriving about the same time as Aragorn to hear a most angry wizard addressing the two culprits.  

"_Meriadoc Brandybuck and __Peregrin Took!" Gandalf said, naming the accused parties.   "__I might have known." he added, grabbing a good grasp of each of their ears for good measure._

Merry and Pippin were not feeling particularly impressed with the efforts right now and it wasn't enough that Gandalf was standing over the top of them, baring down on their poor defenceless ears with no mercy.

Both cousins swallowed harshly as they spotted a most unimpressed Frodo standing in front of them with his arms folded in front of them in a demanding pose.   They were ready to accept any punishment that Gandalf might impose, but the disappointment and shame that was evident on Frodo's face hurt more.

"Don't worry Frodo, I have something in mind that will keep these two utterly busy for the rest of the evening, rather than cause any more disturbance to your birthday celebration," Gandalf said to dark-haired hobbit.

Frodo had worn a discontented look as long as he could, but not for long as he took in the state that Merry and Pippin had gotten themselves into.    It was almost as bad as earlier that day.   Both were covered from head to foot in soot from the explosion.  Tufts of hair sticking out at all sorts of odd angles, their faces were covered in black.

As soon as Gandalf has led the two protesting hobbits away to meet their fair, Frodo, Sam and Aragorn burst out laughing between themselves at what they had seen.  

"Oh, that was a sight to behold, that's for sure," Sam said through his tears of laughter.

"I think it will take a week worth of scrubbing just to be able to see their faces again," Frodo said with mirth. 

Aragorn now decided to part company with Gandalf for a time and join Frodo and Sam for a tankard of ale at one of the tables seated near the dance floor.    Frodo had barely drunk half of his, only sipping at the brew occasionally.

Someone behind them had started yelling _speech. _  Causing Frodo and Sam to turn in their seats and watch as Bilbo made his way to a makeshift podium that had been set up just in front of the band.   From where they were seated, Frodo and Sam's table was now the closest, enabling Bilbo to get a clear, unobstructed view of his nephew.

Frodo put his tankard of ale down and happily joined in the chant to get his uncle to the temporary podium.    "Speech, speech," he said, clapping his hands rhythmically in time with all of the other hobbits calling out for Bilbo. 

Bilbo now held out his hands for the crowd to quieten down to let him speak.   Being a gentle hobbit, his voice was rather soft in volume and could easily be drowned out by the over zealous crowd.

"Thank you, thank you," Bilbo said, a bright smile on his face as he scanned the crowd and was pleased that everyone was enjoying himself.    His smile faltered for a brief second when he spotted Frodo in front of him, smiling along with the others and enjoying the atmosphere.   This was going to be very difficult indeed.

"I am up here speaking to you tonight, because my young nephew Frodo has left me do the honours for both of us tonight," he began.   Frodo smiled back appreciatively, knowing that giving a speech was not his favourite thing to do.   He was more than happy to let Uncle Bilbo give one for both of them.

"Tonight is very special as you all know because it is not only my birthday, but it is the year that Frodo celebrates his coming of age," Bilbo continued and then paused, to applaud the achievement of his nephew.    Frodo blushed at the compliments and crowd cheers, but humbly accepted the praise.

"When I first brought Frodo to Bag End, he was shy to say the least.   Some of that still remains, however, I am proud to say that over the years, I have seen him grow into a sensible tweenager and then into adulthood, conducting himself in a manner far above his years.     That's what makes my next announcement indeed satisfying for me," Bilbo said with a twinkle in his eye.  He knew that the next statement would shock everyone at the party, hopefully none more so than the Sackville-Bagginses.

Frodo felt a slight shiver run up his spine at this point in time, a little nervous about what announcement his uncle was about to make to such a loud group of hobbits.  Sam could see his master's curious look, and placed a hand on his shoulder, just to let Frodo know that he was there.

"What is that old goat up to now?" came the voice from Lobelia Sackville-Baggins, a few tables behind Frodo.   

"_Today is my 111th Birthday," Bilbo said, to which he received a rousing cheer from the party crowd.   _

"Happy Birthday," came an anonymous shout.

_"Alas, 111 years is such a short time to spend in the company of such excellent and admirable hobbits," _Bilbo said, receiving another loud cheer.   "I don't know how many more birthdays I will be sharing with you all, and I want to ensure that the name Baggins is celebrated within the Shire for many more years to come."

Frodo's brow began to frown slightly at the downcast mood that had crept into the

last two sentences from Bilbo.    Some of the other hobbits in the crowd had gone quiet when Bilbo had mentioned not being around forever.   Although many thought the old hobbit had outlived many of his own kind, they were not ready to begin speculating on just how many more years Bilbo had left.

"That is why I have taken certain steps in a legal form, via my Last Will and Testament that will ensure that a Baggins will always be living in Bag End," Bilbo said.   Frodo still looked a little confused about exactly where these lines of conversation where heading.

Lobelia and Otho Sackville-Baggins however, had a smug look on their faces, thinking that Bilbo was already hinting at them being able to take over Bag End when Bilbo was no longer around.   They were about to be grievously disappointed by the old hobbit's intentions.

"From this day forth, I have bequeathed that Frodo will be my heir and successor," he said, pausing to see what reaction would play out on the lad's face.

"Oh Mr Frodo, did you hear that?" Sam asked, looking at this master with jubilation on his chubby face.   He couldn't be more pleased with the announcement for his friend and master.

Frodo had heard the statement, the look on his face, clearly evident of that.   His mouth had dropped open slightly at the shock of such an honour and gift from his uncle.   He  had no idea that Bilbo had made any such changes to his Will and about the future ownership of Bag End.

Once the initial shock had worn off the crowd, they began clapping and cheering once more, for both Bilbo and Frodo.   Most accepting that there was no better heir for the old hobbit.    Frodo was the son that Bilbo had never had and had been raised as one of Bilbo's own.   

"Dottery old fool," spat Lobelia disdainfully.  "He can't just go giving away what rightly belongs to us, just like that.  We will see our own solicitor about this in the morning."

Frodo and Bilbo locked eyes on each other, and couldn't help but smile.   Frodo was so overwhelmed with emotion of what Bilbo had done for him, he could scarcely find the words to say.    

Aragorn couldn't have been more pleased either, already knowing within the short time be had been a guest in Bag End at how deeply the relationship between Bilbo and Frodo ran.

Gandalf was also smiling, having already guessed a long time ago perhaps that Bilbo had planned for Frodo to inherit all of his possessions.    He looked over at Merry and Pippin who had been clearing away dishes for their punishment.  At hearing Bilbo's announcement, both of them had cheered and clapped in happiness for their cousin and embraced each other, taking in the joyousness of the occasion.

Just as the crowd and Frodo thought Bilbo was going to continue with his over active speech, the mood changed dramatically again.    Bilbo's smile not only faltered, but faded away altogether as he looked at his nephew once more and tried to figure out how to play out the next announcement.

Frodo could see the change in his uncle's face and saw the old hobbit playing and tugging nervously at the hem of his coat.   The look he wore was one similar to the one he had when he had spoken to Frodo privately in the marquee only a short time ago.

Frodo's smile faded along with his uncle's and he couldn't help but note a feeling of unease beginning to take hold of him again.   This time is was getting stronger and stronger, until he squirmed in his seat.   

The feeling was like a two edged sword, on one side anticipation for what he knew what something important Bilbo was trying to say.  Then on the other hand, hesitation because his heart was telling him that something was about to happen that would change them forever.

_"I have put this off for far too long," _Bilbo whispered to himself, reaching into the pocket of his jacket and concealing a small object in the palm of his hand.  He now put both hands behind his back and began caressing it.   Relying on it to give him the strength to say what he was about to. 

_"I regret to inform you all that this is the end," _Bilbo said out loud.   _"I am going now and I bid you all a very fond farewell," Bilbo said and then turned his gaze directly to Frodo.   _"Goodbye………" _left his lips and then he disappeared. _

A surprised gasp went up from the crowd, but in stark contrast, Frodo remained silent, not uttering a sound.    Too silent perhaps, Sam thought to himself.   His master's state of mind was hard to read at this point in time.   

Some of the hobbits thought it was one of Bilbo's cleverly constructed pranks, being played out on all of them.   Others weren't so sure what to do.   Was the party over?   Was the party over?   A number of questions where not asked out loud.

Confusion reigned for the next twenty minutes or so as the party guests tried to fathom out what Bilbo's words meant.   Had the old hobbit gone off adventuring again?  And if he had, it seemed a rather obscure, some would say, foolish time of the night or year to be thinking about travelling past the safety of the Shire's borders.  

The cake that had been carefully decorated over a few days for the special event was still sitting on the table, untouched.    Destined not to be devoured as was originally intended.   The crowd was now quickly dispersing and heading home, thinking that Bilbo's sudden departure did indeed signal the end of festivities.

A few people had started to approach Frodo, both to bid him a _Happy Birthday and thank he and Bilbo for what was sure to be a unconventional party to say the least.   At seeing the forlorn figure seated beside Sam, they were not sure if it was words of congratulations that Frodo was seeking._

Frodo had still not said a word and the people closest to him were beginning to grow concerned.   Aragorn had sought out Gandalf to see if the wizard might have a quiet talk with him, but alas it seemed that Gandalf had disappeared shortly after Bilbo.  Perhaps to see if, like everyone else at the party, the act was merely a stunt and ease Frodo's fears.

"Are you alright Mr Frodo?" Sam asked, finally plucking up the courage to speak to his master.   The older hobbit's face was growing pale and there was a mixture of emotions being played out over his handsome features.

"I didn't think he would really do it," came the reply, barely audible above a whisper.   Sam didn't know if Frodo was speaking to him personally, but he was almost giddy with relief that his master had uttered the words at all.

"He's probably just pulling everyone's leg, Mr Frodo, including yours," Sam offered, not wanting to have to believe that Bilbo would leave his nephew so suddenly and barely without a word of goodbye.

"Frodo Baggins!" a shrill voice said as Lobelia Sackville-Baggins strode purposefully towards the vulnerable hobbit.   "I want an explanation for these shenanigans and I mean now."

Aragorn and Sam both moved to shield Frodo to a certain degree, knowing that Frodo was not in any state of mind to be on the receiving end of Lobelia's scolding tongue.

"Sam, quickly, take Frodo over to one of the marquees for a moment," the ranger instructed.  "I will be there in a minute, when things are a little calmer."

The ranger didn't like the look of Frodo at all, knowing that the full shock of what had happened was yet to be realised.

"Right you are Mr Strider," Sam said, only too happy to give his master some sort

of comfort and protection from others who cared not for how distressed Frodo might be feeling about now.

"Come on Mr Frodo," Sam said in a soft voice, gently pulling his master to his feet and leading him to one of the larger, and now empty marquees.    Frodo had not said anything in response, lost in his own thoughts, allowing himself to be led wherever they were wanted to take him.

No sooner had Sam and Frodo entered the sanctuary of the marquee, an escalating argument could be heard ensuing between the ranger and a irate Lobelia Sackville-Baggins.     She had demanded that Aragorn step aside out of her way so that she could ask Frodo about Bilbo's outlandish display of rudeness and tactless games.

Aragorn had responded as politely as he could, at first, but then found himself being screamed at by the shorter, but much more forceful hobbit.   Not wanting to upset any of the Shire residents, he had said in no uncertain terms that she could talk to Frodo the next day.     

The ranger had not given Lobelia the opportunity to continue her tirade, and instead, left her standing, mouth agape and red faced that this scruffy looking Big Person dared to talk back to her.

"How is he?" Strider asked, directing his question to Sam as he entered the marquee.   He knelt before the slightly trembling hobbit, trying to help where he could to ease the sense of loss.    

"Maybe we need Mr Merry and Mr Pippin here to help, seeing as how they are family and all," Sam suggested.   He had already spoken a whole book full of soothing words and comforting thoughts, but none of them seemed to having any dramatic effect on his stricken master.

"I'll go see if I can find them," Strider offered, knowing that hobbits had a enormous affinity for family and being surrounded by their own kind.  Maybe Merry and Pippin could help Frodo understand where he was unable to offer any alternative answers.

As soon as Strider left the marquee, Sam had noted how much his master was trembling.   Frodo was still dealing with shock and his legs might go beneath him at any time.   For the moment, Frodo was leaning against the main marquee pole, but his hands were beginning to become clammy and sweaty.

"Samwise you ninnyhammer!" he berated himself.  "Bring him into a place where there is naught a chair or anything such thing to sit on.    I will be right back Mr Frodo," he promised as he dashed to get the closest chair available, not wanting to leave his friend alone for any great length of time.

Halfway back from getting the chair, Sam realised that he should have a drink of water or some other sort of beverage as well.   Reluctantly, he placed the chair down for a brief second and went to fill an empty ale tankard with water.

With Samwise and Strider both out of the tent, this left Frodo alone with his thoughts.   More questions than anything else.    _Why?    Why didn't he stop his Uncle from leaving? Why didn't he listen to the warning signals that he had recognized months ago?_

Then the idea struck him from out of nowhere that he didn't really know where his uncle had gone to.   Sure he had disappeared before all of the party guests, but that didn't necessarily mean that his worst fears had come true and he had left permanently.   Maybe he was just playing a prank like Sam had said and was now sitting back at Bag End looking down at what remained and laughing at the looks he had witnessed on everyone's faces.

If he was still at Bag End, maybe he could stop his Uncle from leaving or make him change his mind and stay.   Maybe he could convince his uncle to take him with him.   After all, they had always promised to travel together to the places that Bilbo talked about in his tales and songs.

Frodo reminded himself that he would have to be quick though.  If Bilbo was leaving, no doubt he would be doing it very soon.   A glimmer of hope at stopping his Uncle from making a grave mistake was all it took for Frodo to make up his mind and dash out of the back of the tent towards Bag End.    

By the time Frodo was halfway back to Bag End, shrouded in darkness, preventing anyone from seeing him take off, Sam was walking back in to the marquee.   He was fully expecting to still see the sad figure he had left but a minute ago.    

Sam was baffled as he set the chair down first and then the tankard of water on the seat.   Maybe Frodo had moved to another part of the tent, preferring to be as far away from others as possible in his time of sadness.

Aragorn was just approaching the entrance to the tent when Sam came out with a worried expression on his face.  Sam got to speak first.   

"Where did you take him to?" Sam asked, a little hurriedly, but thinking that the Ranger must have taken Frodo to another marquee, further away from any noise.   It was the only rational explanation he could come up with in a hurry.

"Take him?" Strider questioned in return, at first thinking that Sam was somehow mistaking him for somebody else.   As soon as he saw the stout hobbit's face though, he knew that something was very wrong.

"Oh Mr Strider, please tell me it was you that took him somewhere else, because otherwise Mr Frodo is missing and I dare not think of what might have happened," Sam said in a pleading voice.

"What's this about Frodo missing?" Pippin said, he and Merry only coming into the conversation halfway.   He had said it with mirth, but now realised with the concern written over the ranger's face and Sam's strangulated features, the laughter on his lips got caught in his throat.

"Where could he have gone, I was only gone but a minute.   To get a chair for him to sit on and some water.  He was looking a might pale," Sam said in his defence.

"Sam, don't get too far ahead of us on this, nobody is doubting that you thought you were doing the right thing for Frodo," the Ranger said.  He could tell that Sam was already carrying enough guilt for all of them, but the most important thing now was to find Frodo, and quickly.

"Then Frodo really is missing then," Merry said, he refrained from saying anything further when Sam and Strider both gave him a hard-case look.    Aragorn rolling his eyes in frustration at Merry having just repeated what was blatantly obvious.

"Where was he when you left to get the chair Sam?" Strider asked, believing it best to start at the beginning when they had both last seen Frodo in the marquee.

"I took him to this tent here behind us, just like you asked me.   Then I could feel him trembling slightly, might have been the cold, but more so probably being so sad over Master Bilbo I suspect," Sam explained, Strider only nodding in acknowledgement rather than interrupting the flow of information that might aid them in finding Frodo faster.

When there wasn't much more detail to be heard, Strider went into the tent and began looking around to find which exit point Frodo used to evade being seen.   Notably, he soon found himself at the rear of the marquee, lifting up the large canvas sheet and peering at a vacant field that ran in an upward direction towards the roadway.

"Sam, where does that roadway lead to?" Strider asked, thinking he already knew the answer to the path that Frodo had chosen almost before he uttered a word.

Sam answered anyway, "To Bag End…………." in a quiet voice.

"Come on then, what are we waiting for?" Merry and Pippin said, wanting to scramble up the hill as quickly as their legs would carry them.   

"Alright, but just be careful now when we get there, we don't know how Mr Frodo is going to be when we get there, if that is indeed where he went," Sam said, really preferring that he and Strider make the trip without the over enthusiastic cousins.

Merry and Pippin gave an exaggerated hurt look, signalling that they were aware that Frodo might be a little distraught when they found him.   Nonetheless, they were not going to have him wallow in sadness all alone.

"Let's go," Strider said to the two cousins, but by that time, Sam had already started to travel up the steep grassy slope.   His primary concern was for Frodo and nothing else at the moment mattered.

*******************************************

At about the same time that Sam and Strider discovered which path he had chosen, Frodo was at the bottom of the roadway leading towards Bag End.   Had he not paused at the gateway to the smial itself, and kept going until he reached the top of the hill, he might have been in time to see his beloved Uncle's small form walking under the shadows a little distance away.

Alas, as fate would have it, Frodo did choose to pause at the gateway to Bag End.   He was unaware of the conversation that had taken place between Bilbo and Gandalf.   He did not know that the very moment his Uncle walked out of Bag End, that his world would be changed forever.

"_Bilbo!__   Bilbo!" Gandalf heard Frodo calling from the front doorway.   He sounded as if he had been running, as if he knew that haste was needed to prevent his Uncle leaving._

The wizard closed his eyes in sadness, knowing that he had known this was going to happen for quite sometime, just as Frodo had suspected it would.   Knowledge of the fact though didn't lessen the blow any or did it stop the pain of guilt that wracked the wizard over what effect he had over current and future events.

Gandalf had been sitting by the fire on a chair when Frodo had called out at the front door.   A few moments before the dark-haired hobbit arrived, he had been lost in thought about the conversation that had just taken place and what the ramifications would be for Frodo.

_Precious _Bilbo had said as he caressed the one possession that took all of his will to give up.   The wizard could hear his own words echoing, _It's__ been called that before but not by you he had said to the old hobbit._

When Gandalf had first approached Bilbo about the method he had chosen to leave the residents of the Shire and others whom he loved so dearly, like Frodo, the old hobbit had simply laughed as though the whole charade had been a rehearsed performance.

The wizard could tell though that Bilbo's heart was breaking as much as he knew Frodo's would be when the young hobbit returned to find his uncle gone.   He couldn't find the words to chastise his old friend, for he knew that there was no way for Bilbo to say goodbye to Frodo.   

In the blink of an eye though, as he watched Bilbo gather the few meagre possessions he chose to take with him on his journey, Gandalf watched his friend's face turn from old and haggard to one of pure lust when he eyed the ring.

Bilbo had told Gandalf that everything remaining in Bag End would be for Frodo, as well as many other assets that he had taken care of legally.    Frodo would never want for anything so long as he dwelled in the Shire, and would have enough resources to travel far and beyond it's borders if his heart so desired.

_What about this ring, is it staying too? _Gandalf recalled himself asking.  Such a simple question really, but as he soon discovered, a many faceted answer.

At first Bilbo had said yes, until he realised what he was trying to give up.  It was almost as if he felt he couldn't give it up, like he wouldn't be whole again without it.   The old hobbit had even accused Gandalf of wanting it for himself.   An absurd theory really if thought out properly, but in the mind of one who had such a lengthy possession and seduction by the ring, the wizard posed a threat.

It was at this point in this thinking, that Gandalf had heard Frodo, frantically calling out to Bilbo from the front door.    He had called out twice, receiving no reply.    Pausing at the entrance, he spied a shiny object on the floor.

"What's this?" he asked himself, picking it up.   He saw it was a gold ring, a plain band that appeared to hold no importance or significance.   If only he knew then how wrong his first assumption was.

Frodo rested the ring on the palm of his hand as he approached the brooding wizard by the fireplace.    He waited for Gandalf to turn and face him and give him some sort of explanation.   

"_Bilbo's ring," Gandalf had said, laughing a little, but a false laugh.  "__Bilbo has gone to stay with the elves.   He has left you Bag End and all of his possessions."_

Gandalf watched Frodo's face for a reaction to that which he had just said.   He rarely found himself having to give such heart-wrenching news and dreaded being awarded the task by a now absent Bilbo.

Frodo watched as Gandalf now placed the ill-gotten ring in a small, plain envelope and sealed the slap, preventing any accidental escape.   Somehow Frodo thought over what he had been told and was trying to find a way to accept that Bilbo was gone.

_"Keep it out of sight," _Gandalf had said with a smile, but how he wished he could have emphasised that more.

Frodo had walked over to a large chest in the corner of the room and proceeded to hide the envelope under a pile of Bilbo's old papers and maps.    Somewhere out of sight Gandalf had recommended, there would be nobody looking in this place for sometime to come Frodo wagered.   The dark-haired hobbit had just gotten to his feet again when he heard his name being called.

"Frodo?" came another call from the front door, this time, Sam who was more breathless and seemed to be in greater haste than Frodo had been a few minutes earlier.   Sam was soon followed by Strider and Frodo's two cousins, Merry and Pippin.

It was upon seeing all of these people and having to explain to them what had happened, that Frodo's emotions seemed to swell up inside him and show more openly on his face and in his body language.

"Merry and Pippin, how about you go and organize a nice hot cup of tea for us all in the living room," Gandalf suggested, knowing that keeping  the two younger hobbits occupied was the best thing for the moment.   He knew that they were probably concerned about Frodo as well, but at times like this, a little caution was called for.

"I'll help the lads," Strider suggested, for two reasons, one thinking along the same lines as the wizard that Frodo needed to have as few people invading his sense of space as possible, and secondly, because he had something in mind to mix in with the tea to aid Frodo at such a difficult time. 

Sam had taken matters in his own hands and led a unprotesting Frodo into the living room, and ushered him into the most comfortable arm chair in the room.

Merry and Pippin had been sensible enough to bring Frodo his cup of tea and then

gently bid him goodnight before retiring for the night.  Both suspected that Sam and Gandalf would be more than capable of taking care of Frodo until the morning.  

The two hobbits had already spoken to Aragorn about helping clear the party tables and marquees away in the morning, giving Frodo as much space as he needed to grief and come to an understanding that Bilbo had gone away.   The Ranger was more than pleased to assist and thought the two cousins had shown much more maturity in offering such help.

Frodo had responded autonomously to the quick embrace from both Merry and Pippin, giving them a weak smile for their thoughtfulness, but as soon as they left the room, his mood darkened even further and the weight of grief and loss were beginning to fall in around him.

"Here you are Mr Frodo, a nice hot cup of tea.  That will set you right for sure," Sam said cheerfully, but betraying his own emotions by having tears for his master's sadness.

Sam was just about to hand the cup and saucer to Frodo when he spoke.  _"Tell me it's not true Sam, please…….. please tell me that it's not……….."_ and with those few words came the tide of emotion that had been threatening to spill since the party field.

Gandalf had been quick enough to rescue the steaming cup from Sam's grasp as the stout hobbit now wrapped his arms around the sagging and sobbing form of Frodo, crying along with him at the pain and abandonment he was feeling.

"Promise me that you will not leave me too Sam," Frodo said amidst his tears, afraid that somebody else in his life whom he deeply cared for would be gone too.

"Not even if you asked me to Mr Frodo…… not even if you asked me to," Sam swore.

The wizard and the ranger were content enough to let the two friends pour out their emotions with just each other, not wanting to intrude and not being able to find the right words of comfort to say to Frodo.

Half an hour later, an exhausted Frodo still had his dark head resting against Sam's shoulder, his tears no longer running down his pale cheeks, but his eyes rimmed red and tired.    Sam was seated on the arm of the chair and was finding prolonged sitting in such a position to be most unpleasant, but he wouldn't disturb Frodo for any amount of discomfort that he might be enduring.

"Sam, try and get Frodo to sip a little of that tea," Strider said in a whisper, not sure if Frodo was asleep or not.   The hobbit's eyes were closed and his faced a little more relaxed, but showing signs of fatigue from a dreadfully long and emotionally demanding day.

"What is in it?" Sam enquired, guessing that the Ranger had placed some sort of herb in the hot water to allow his master a more restful form of sleep.

"Just something to help him relax," Strider assured Sam.   

"Maybe he doesn't need it," Sam said on his master's behalf, feeling the deep and even breaths from Frodo, signalling that he had fallen asleep.   "Let's not disturb him now," Sam implored with them, hoping that his master would be treated with the utmost care.

Gandalf smiled and had to admire the determination of Samwise.  He had never seen anyone care for Frodo the way Sam did, not even Bilbo and that's saying a lot he bemused to himself.  "I think your right Samwise," the wizard agreed.    

"Oh my dear boy, how I wish I could have prevented you feeling such pain and anguish this night," Gandalf whispered as he ran a gentle hand down Frodo's cheek.

"I'll not be leaving him tonight Mr Gandalf, Sir," Sam said, hoping that the wizard would understand his need to be there for Frodo in case he woke during the night.     Gandalf smiled though as he looked at the face of the hobbit and realised that Sam's own face was a little pinched with tiredness and emotion.   He shouldn't wonder that Sam would soon be joining his master in peaceful slumber.

"I knew you wouldn't do anything other than your best for him Samwise," Gandalf said in compliment.    Twenty minutes later, Frodo was safely tucked away in his bed, Samwise seated in a large chair in same room, but also sound asleep.   The room was warm and there was not a breath of wind blowing outside.   All at Bag End was quiet.

Frodo's peaceful sleep wasn't to last very long though.   Gandalf and Strider had retired to their own rooms only two hours earlier, when the dark-haired hobbit found himself awake and staring at the ceiling.

When he had first opened his eyes, his heart had swelled a little at the sight of Sam, sound asleep on the chair in his room.    He didn't want to wake his friend, and knew that with the few ales that Sam had consumed earlier that evening and everything else that he had been involved in helping out with that day, his sleep would be a deep one.

Frodo crept out of his room and into the study, knowing there was little chance of being discovered there this time of night.   If he chose the kitchen, there was a small chance that somebody else would be up and about, looking for a drink or something, and find him there sitting all alone.     

He sat in a chair in the room and looked about at the memories that seemed to scream out at him from all four walls.   It's funny he thought to himself, when his parents had passed away when he was twelve, he found himself wanting to hold onto every single memory of them for fear of not being able to recall them as the days faded into months and then years.

Sitting here now, only a few hours after Bilbo had left Bag End, for the first time in his life he didn't want to be reminded of what he had lost.  When he had first walked into the room, he was bombarded with the scent of Old Toby and his uncle's ink on the writing desk.   

Now, he found himself an orphan all over again and the pain was almost too hard to bear.   When his parents died, he had forced himself after a time to come to terms with the reality that they weren't coming back.   But with Bilbo disappearing tonight it was different.   He wasn't dead.  He was just gone, with no forwarding address and no real reason of why.   

There was no way of knowing which direction he had taken, although Gandalf had given which road he had taken out of the Shire.  There would be no way to know if he was hurt further down the trail or if he was in need of anything or where he was.   The not knowing was harder to understand and come to terms with.

Frodo always knew that his uncle longed for travelling again, to see the places that he spoke of in his stories.   Everyone joked about him being too old to take part in such adventures again.   Bilbo might have been old in years, but his heart was still young in spirit.

The early morning sun was just beginning to rise over the horizon when Frodo emerged from the study after a sleepless night and began to make himself a cup of tea in the kitchen.  

Gandalf was the first to greet him, though upon scrutinizing the young hobbit, could tell what events had taken place after everyone else in the smial had gone to bed.   "Oh Frodo, why didn't you wake somebody?" he asked, more in concern than meant as a criticism.

Frodo didn't give an explanation, just smiled a tired smile and sipped slowly at his hot cup of tea.   Leaning his back against the wall as he tried to drown out the sorrow and loneliness that seemed to be consuming him all to quickly.

Gandalf was understanding enough of Frodo's personality to note that the hobbit preferred to keep his feelings and emotions locked up inside.  Apart from the night before and that was in a moment of utter despair and grief.    He didn't know how Frodo was going to handle Bilbo's departure over a long period of time.    

Samwise had jerked awake in the chair a few moments earlier to find Frodo's bed empty and the sheets and blankets cold, signalling that his master had been up for some length of time.    He didn't want to think about the thought that gnawed at him that Frodo might have been awake for a number of hours.

His fears were realised though as he walked into the kitchen and spied his master, leaning against the wall and his eyes still as tired looking as the night before and still rimmed red.   Gandalf made a quick hand gesture to keep quiet, both leaving Frodo to himself.   Maybe if they said nothing, he might be willing to talk, given time.  It was a small hope worth holding onto.

To Gandalf's and Sam's dismay, Frodo was jerked awake from his half-drowse when Merry and Pippin launched into the kitchen, ready to greet the day with renewed vigour and energy.    Both of them paused at the cross looks they were getting from the wizard and Sam.    Strider soon appeared at the table and he too noted the signs of fatigue still etched on Frodo's face.

Sam had gone about cooking a delicious breakfast for all, a little concerned to see Frodo's plate mostly untouched.   Merry and Pippin had consumed all they were given and were even eyeing off their cousin's plate, ready to confiscate it when Gandalf intervened.

It had been originally intended that Aragorn help Merry and Pippin clean up the party field, but by the light of day, it was agreed that Gandalf would prove a better supervisor for the two young hobbits.   He reminded them that they still had to finish their punishments from their activities the previous night.

Sam and Strider had been grateful to the wizard, hoping that with a quiet household for the majority of the morning, that Frodo might be able to gain some further rest.    Aragorn had gone to his room to change into some clean clothes and Sam had seen Gandalf and the two cousins to the door, leaving Frodo in the kitchen to his own devices for a few moments.

Sam and Strider had both arrived back at the kitchen, ready to enjoy a much quieter breakfast and cup of tea with Frodo.   When they walked into the room, neither could help but feel a lump rise in their throats as they looked at their friend.    

During Sam's absence, Frodo had gently pushed his plate of uneaten breakfast aside and now using his outstretched arm as a crude pillow, lay sound asleep.   A few stray curls of his dark hair had fallen over his face and hid his features as he slept.

TO BE CONTINUED…………………..


	8. Explanations and Gandalf's Leaving

ESCAPE THE DARKNESS

**By JULES**

**Authors Quick Note – **This story explores the idea about what might have happened if Strider had come to the Shire to forewarn Bilbo Baggins about the RingWraiths that would soon come hunting for the One Ring. Commences a few days before Bilbo's Birthday party and before Gandalf returns to the Shire as well. 

Strider had vows to protect Bilbo when the RingWraiths are sent by the Dark Lord but he is unaware that the legacy of whom is to carry the Ring to be destroyed falls upon a totally different Baggins hobbit. 

**Disclaimer -  I** do not own any of these characters but I enjoy writing about them and their adventures together.

**Explanations and Gandalf's Leaving**

Strider and Sam had tried unsuccessfully to move Frodo from the kitchen table without disturbing him, hoping his sleep would be deep enough form them to be able to get him back to his bed to rest properly.

Unfortunately this was not to be and they only got as far as the armchair in the

living room.  Frodo had awoken and he was slowly drifting in and out while Sam hovered worriedly nearby.

Strider offered to make everyone another cup of tea, intending to infuse some more of his secret herb into Frodo's cup to induce a more restful repose.   Frodo was happy enough to sip at the piping hot liquid when it was ready, not really feeling like starting up a conversation, but content enough with for the silent company that the Ranger and Sam were prepared to offer.

By the time the cup was drained, Frodo had his head reclined against the back of the armchair, and he was steadily on his way to sleep again.    Carefully moving so as not to wake the drowsy hobbit, Strider took the cup from his sleep limp hand before it had a chance to fall to the floor.

Sam and Strider were both loath to try and move him a second time;  he looked content enough where he was for the moment.   A warm quilt was draped over him and the fire kept low but burning, giving the whole room a cosy quality to it.

Frodo's peace and tranquil sleep were about to be rudely interrupted again though as suddenly there was an urgent pounding on the front door of Bag End.

The household was relatively quiet and Strider and Sam pondered whether or not they would be able to get away with just ignoring whoever the unannounced visitor was.  The knocking became persistent now and increased in volume.

"Frodo Baggins!   Open up, I know you are in there.   Frodo Baggins, I have some things to say to you," Lobelia Sackville-Baggins demanded.

Strider and Sam both looked over to the slumbering hobbit and were not happy to see Frodo trying to drag his heavy eyelids open at his named being shouted.    He gave a feeble effort to rise from the armchair, but then lost all momentum and sank back into the warmth of the quilt.

Sam had crept up to one of the windows and tried peering out without being seen.  

"Why can't they just let poor Mr Frodo alone for a time?" the quiet natured hobbit

muttered out loud. 

"I am going to put a stop to this nonsense," the Ranger said gruffly, not wanting any more of Frodo's rest disturbed.   The dark-haired hobbit seemed to be just drifting off to sleep again when the knocking recommenced and he started to a half-drowsy state again.

Sam would not have missed this conversation for the world, and he was quickly trailing Strider's heels and opening the door before any more knocking could wake his master again.

"Good day to you Mistress Lobelia," Sam said courteously, remembering that she was still a member of Mr Frodo's family.   Maybe not a downright neighbourly one, but a part of the family all the same.

"Get out of my way, Gamgee," Lobelia scoffed, trying to push the sandy-haired

hobbit aside and gain uninvited access to Bag End.

"I'll thank you to not address Samwise in that tone," came Strider's voice as he barred her entrance and stopped her proceeding any further.   The Ranger was outraged that people thought they could talk to those considered lower in social status like animals.

"Oh, it's you again," Lobelia said, rolling her eyes dramatically and remembering the argument that had taken place between herself and the scruffy-looking Big Person at the party.

"Unfortunately for you, yes," Strider said, unaffected by her lack of politeness.   Samwise had to hold back a giggle at the Ranger's response.  

"I am here to talk to Frodo, not you, now let me pass," Lobelia said, stating the reason for her unannounced visit.   "If you remember correctly, it was upon your instruction last night that I come today."

"Yes, I do remember telling you that," Strider said ruefully.   He had not thought that the woman would take his advice quite literally, and so much had taken place since their heated words until this moment that he had forgotten about their conversation.

"Sorry, but Frodo has had rather a restless night and he is sleeping right now.  I have no intentions of waking him, nor allowing anybody else to do the same," Strider informed her.

"But what I have to say is important and cannot wait.    To think the nerve of Bilbo Baggins, my own kin having the hide to go behind my back and make that scrawny no good Brandybuck his heir.   I have more right to Bilbo's possessions and Bag End than that young hobbit ever will," Lobelia said indignantly.

"I afraid that I have no control over whatever decisions Bilbo has made in regards to his home, possessions or his nephew.   I have no real interest in such matters, but I do have interest in Frodo's welfare and well-being.   He is very upset over Bilbo's departure and needs time to adjust to what has happened before being ambushed by anyone."

Samwise nodded his head in agreement to the Ranger's words, but didn't have the courage to voice his own opinions.   He wanted Lobelia to leave and never come back.  He shrank back from the scowl he received from her.

"So, the old coot has truly gone then," Lobelia said, thinking out loud for a second.  Her manner seemed to change momentarily as she considered what this meant for her and Otho.   She had to admit that she hadn't though the old hobbit was up to something so drastic.

"This isn't over by a long shot," Lobelia said and walked away from the smial in a huff, but with a look on her face that suggested she thought this turn of events would work to her advantage.

"Boy, am I glad that's over," Sam said, letting out the breath he had been holding. As soon as Strider closed the door to Bag End, he could no longer hide the laugh he felt or the smile on his face as he recalled what the Ranger had said.   

"Are all the members of that family so obnoxious?" Strider asked, thinking that he had not had the misfortune of meeting such an unappealing group of individuals in all his travels.

"Yes, I am sad to say," Sam admitted, but then added to the simple reply, "Except Mr Frodo, of course.  He is related to them and Master Bilbo.    

"Let's go check on your master, shall we?" Strider said, smiling as Sam had once again come to the rescue of Frodo's honour.

While they had talked just inside the front door, Frodo had awoken to the sound of Lobelia's voice.  He had no desire to talk to her, but now stole himself down the hallway, unseen by Strider or Sam.   He walked past his own bedroom door and continued down the corridor.

Strider and Sam looked at each other again in shock, as they entered the living

room and saw the armchair where Frodo had been sleeping now vacant.   The quilt was in an untidy heap on the floor, where it had fallen, but there was no sign of the fair hobbit.

Sam couldn't help but feel that is was all a little too much like the night before, when Frodo had disappeared when they left him alone for a few minutes.  "He is gone again," he blurted out, stating the obvious.   

Neither one of them had heard him walk about when they had been addressing Lobelia at the front door.   Had Frodo overheard any of the conversation or the nasty comments directed at him?   They sincerely hoped not.

Sam started heading to Frodo's bedroom, ahead of Strider's suggested first place to look.  Both of them grew concerned when the room was empty and the bed still neatly made.  He wasn't in there, so where could he be?

"I wonder if………," Sam said, swallowing a little when he thought of the next logical place to look.   He was trying to put himself in Frodo's shoes and think of the place where he would seek peace and quiet if he was upset and missing Bilbo.

Sam didn't bother to knock on the door.  It was already slightly ajar, signalling that his assumptions had been correct.   He nudged it open very softly, praying that the old wooden door didn't creak in its hinges.

Strider had trusted Sam's knowledge of Frodo's habits, and followed him to the doorway, where he was able to see over the top of the much shorter hobbit.

"Bilbo's room," Strider whispered, guessing to whom the bedroom had previously belonged.   Sam nodded before walking in as quietly as he could.   Not wanting the slightest footstep to be heard by his master.

Frodo was indeed inside, sprawled across the large bed on the far side.  He was asleep, his head resting on an impossible number of pillows accumulated at the top of the bed.   Their friend looked the most relaxed they had seen him since early yesterday.    No doubt the room still contained his uncle's scent and it was that sense of security that allowed Frodo to fall into repose.

Sam fussed about the blankets for a second, not wanting to wake Frodo, but feeling a little sad that Frodo had sought his uncle's room.   The grief was still too near and no doubt it would be quite a while until his master would be ready to heal.

For the next three hours, Bag End was mostly quiet, Strider and Sam left quietly to talk to each other while Frodo slept and everyone else was still to return from clearing away the party.

Merry and Pippin returned with Gandalf shortly before lunch, announcing that they were famished.    Both were informed about Frodo sleeping in Bilbo's bedroom and warned of the dire consequences if he should be unnecessarily awoken.   They were all a little annoyed at Lobelia Sackville-Bagginses trying to throw her weight around and insulting Frodo.  The younger cousins had snickered at Sam's description of how Strider had turned the unwanted guest away.

Everything was moving rather too slowly for Merry and Pippin later that afternoon.  To ease their boredom, they had declared that they were going to spend the evening at the Green Dragon and throw down a few ales and sing a few songs.   They enquired if Frodo might like to come with them, hoping to cheer him up a little.    

Whilst their good intentions were appreciated, Gandalf stepped in on Frodo's behalf and told the cousins that it maybe a little too early yet to expect Frodo wanting to be part of a noisy crowd after such a shock.    The two cousins then informed everyone not to be concerned if they stayed out rather late and decided to acquire alternative accommodations for the night.   Both promised to spend some quality time with Frodo over the next few days before they were due to return to their own homes and families.

Frodo awoke just after lunch, appearing in the living room where Gandalf, Sam

and Strider were currently keeping company with each other.   

"Mr Frodo," Sam declared, happy to see his master awake at last, but a little concerned about how tired he still looked.

"Frodo, my lad, how are you feeling?" Gandalf asked.    

"A little better, thank you," Frodo said quietly, taking a seat in an armchair.  "Is there any tea left?" he enquired.

"Right you are, Mr Frodo, I will be right back.  I will make a fresh pot if there is not," Sam said and hurried off to the kitchen.

Sam soon returned with a fresh pot of tea and some clean cups and saucers, enough for everyone in the room.   Frodo might enjoy his tea more with someone to drink with him. Along with the tea, he had prepared a small late lunch for his master, hoping that Frodo wouldn't balk at the small serving.   He really hadn't eaten very much today.  

"Thank you, Sam," Frodo said and took the offered cup.   He also took the plate of food, and looking back at his friend's hopeful expression, he couldn't rightly refuse to at least try and force something down his throat.

After some quiet conversation, Frodo decided to try and take his mind off his troubles and use what remained of the afternoon to try and get some quiet reading done.   He selected a small book of poetry, avoiding any of Bilbo's favourite for fear of being overcome with memories and emotions.    He settled back in the chair with a second cup of tea and tried to focus his attention to the words on the page and not to the voices in his head.

Gandalf and Strider left the hobbit to his reading and took up on a bench outside, quietly smoking their pipes and talking, but within hearing distance if they were required.  Sam, too, felt as though he was hovering too much and decided to busy himself with preparing dinner for the household.   

At one point, Sam went back to his own home and told his Gaffer about Master Bilbo's departure from the Shire.   Hamfast Gamgee was shocked, to say the least, but he had respected the old hobbit's decision and didn't question it in any way.  It wasn't their place to weigh up if what Bilbo had done was the right thing or not, he reminded Samwise.

He also assured his son that they would continue to tend the gardens of Bag End no matter who happened to be the current resident.   The fact that Frodo had been made Master Bilbo's heir just made the task much more satisfying and rewarding, rather than having to do it for a stranger or for the Sackville-Bagginses.

Hamfast knew that Mr Frodo considered his son more than just someone to help out in the garden.   He equally knew how much Sam had come to adore Mr Frodo and cherish the friendship that had blossomed over a number of years.   "You just make sure you look after Mr Frodo right proper, Samwise," the Gaffer said, knowing that his son would do no less anyway.

Sam had been overjoyed at his Gaffer's acceptance of his friendship with Mr Frodo.   He knew that his father had seen his own position with Master Bilbo more as employer and employee, rather than friends.   In the end, neither of them would have been able to deny that there was more than just an employment relationship.   Friends like Master Bilbo and Mr Frodo didn't come along but once in a lifetime.

In the short time that Sam was out of Bag End and Frodo was left alone in the living room, reading by the warm fireplace, something was about to happen that would forever etch itself in Frodo's mind as the beginning of the evil that would plague him.   In years to come, if he was asked to pinpoint the clearest start to the chaos, death and madness that would ensue, this would be it.

If somebody had walked into the room, at first they have been completely unaware that anything was out of place at all.   Frodo was still seated in the armchair with a quilt draped over his legs and a book being held limply in his hand.   His thoughts had drifted somewhat from the words on the page and he was staring into the low burning fire as if trying to recall the past.

Sam was just approaching the front gate to Bag End, greeting Gandalf and Strider upon his return when all three of them stopped dead in their tracks at the awful scream of terror that they heard being emitted from the living room.   There could be only one explanation as to whom the scream belonged to.   Frodo had been sitting in there on his own. 

Pulling themselves from their paralysed states, all three dashed into the room, expecting to see some sort of evidence of an accident or attack involving Frodo.   The hobbit was standing in the middle of the room, trembling slightly, and his eyes were locked on the flames that burned in the fireplace.

"Frodo?" Gandalf said, placing a gentle hand on Frodo's shoulder, not wanting to startle the frightened boy any further.   When Frodo turned to face them, the fear was so naked on his face that it took their breath away.    His eyes were as wide as saucers and every bit of emotion was mirrored back to the trio in those impossibly blue eyes.

"What is it Mr Frodo?   What has happened to you?" Sam asked, never remembering such a sound coming from his master before.

Frodo struggled to find his voice, his breath coming in raspy pants as he tried to calm down enough to take longer and deeper breaths.   "Come sit down a minute," Gandalf suggested, leading the boy by his shirt sleeve and forcing him to sit on a chair.   

"Can you tell us what happened?" Strider asked, waiting patiently until Frodo was ready to speak for himself.   Frodo's hands still trembled and he held onto Gandalf with a tighter grip then the wizard admitted.

"I-I …….. I really don't k-know myself," Frodo said, his voice barely audible.   Sam quickly got a glass of water for his friend and received a smile in return as Frodo sipped at it gratefully.

"Something must have frightened you quite badly, my lad, for you to make such a scream," Gandalf said, not wanting to back Frodo into a corner where he refused to speak of his fear.

"I was just thinking, staring at the flames in the fireplace there," Frodo began, still unsure of how to describe what he had experienced.  Strider nodded, acknowledging what Frodo was saying and by the same token, trying to encourage him to tell the story some more.

"The flames just seemed to get bigger.    Bigger and Bigger in my head until they were like a raging inferno," Frodo explained, shuddering a little at the thought of fire so ravenous in its intent to burn.   "Then there was screaming and yelling.   Not from the fire, but sounding very far away.   I couldn't really hear anything they were saying, but I could feel the desperation and the urgency in their voices."

"What happened after that?" Gandalf urged.

Frodo took another sip of water before reliving the next part, perhaps the most chilling part of the whole episode.   "Then there was this other voice……."  He paused, looking at his friends, hoping that they understood just how hard it was to speak about it.

"Like the ones that were screaming?" Strider asked, but somehow knowing in the back of his mind that Frodo thought this voice to be entirely different.

"No, not like the others at all," Frodo said, agreeing with Strider's unspoken assumption.  "This voice was different.  No less frightening, but it didn't sound like it was trying to warn me at all."

"What did it say?" Sam asked, feeling his own fear growing about hearing voices and the like.  Most unusual he must admit.

"It sounded strange, like a foreign language or something.  But the tone of the voice was as if it was trying to………." he stopped again, not sure if the others would believe his version of how it sounded.

"Go on……," Gandalf said, seeing in the hobbit's eyes that he didn't want to continue.

"C-call out to me," Frodo said, lowering his gaze a little, afraid to look Strider and Gandalf.    "Telling me that I needed to do something," he added.

It was Frodo's and Sam's turn now to see expressions of concern and dread written across the faces of the Ranger and the wizard.  No words were exchanged between them, but suddenly the air in the room had become incredibly tense and claustrophobic.

Strider and Gandalf held a conversation of their own now in Elvish, Frodo and Sam watched the exchange, but understood none of it.   "It is time to tell him Gandalf.  We cannot delay it any further.  Danger is coming and it draws nearer to here everyday," Strider stressed.

"I am not sure he is ready to hear the truth, Strider.  He has already been put through enough over Bilbo," Gandalf said, knowing that what the Ranger said was true but wanting to shield Frodo from the evil that was clearly growing.

"We have to be ready to leave in haste if it comes to the Shire," Strider warned.  "We cannot wait any longer, Gandalf.   Frodo has the right to know, ready or not to accept it." "Gandalf, what is going on?" Frodo said, at first his voice sounding a little harsh that he and Sam where being treated like children that shouldn't be hearing of certain things.   "Please, I need to understand what I just saw, because it has me terribly frightened," he added in a more pleading tone.

Gandalf's face softened as he looked into the eyes of innocence.   Strider was right.  Frodo needed to be told.   The cost of learning the truth might be high and come at a price, but he doubted they could ill afford the alternative if they ignored the threat that was enclosing around them.    

"Alright, Frodo, I will explain what I know," he said.   "Samwise, make a fresh pot of tea please, and we will adjourn to the kitchen in a moment.   Firstly though, Frodo, do you still have the ring that Bilbo left you?" he asked, looking more at Strider as he asked the question.

"You already suspect don't you?" Strider commented, unable to hide the implications for himself and others should Gandalf's hunch turn out to be correct.

Frodo frowned slightly but rose from his chair and went to the chest of maps that he had concealed the envelope in.   "I put it in a place that I thought would be safe," he explained, reaching in the chest with his hands and searching for the small fold of parchment.   "I didn't think anybody would look in one of Bilbo's old trunks."

"Aha," Frodo exclaimed and held up the elusive envelope containing Bilbo's ring.  Gandalf quickly snatched it away and tore it open, spilling the contents into his open hand.

Frodo and Sam saw Strider take a noticeable step away from the small golden band, turning his face away for an instant as if to tell himself that it wasn't true.    The two hobbits were becoming more confused by the minute, not having seen Gandalf or Strider so concerned before.

Gandalf now baffled Frodo and Sam even more by tossing the ring into the fireplace.   "There is only one true test to find out," he said, meaning the statement more for the Ranger than for the two hobbits.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, startled that the wizard would first ask for a treasured possession of Master Bilbo's that had been left to his master, to then grab it roughly and toss it into the fire to be destroyed.  That defied all rationality in his eyes.

The wizard now used a pair of ordinary looking metal tongs to retrieve the ring from the flames.   Both hobbits had expected the gold to have melted slightly or at least  the fire to have disfigured the shape of the band.   To their surprise, though, it looked remarkably unchanged in shape, colour and size.   There was no marring that they could notice.

"_Hold out your hand, Frodo," Gandalf requested, pointing the tongs towards Frodo who stood but a few feet away._

Frodo looked at the wizard with a startled expression, thinking of the temperature of the ring after being immersed in the flames.   Aragorn seemed to recoil again as the ring came closer to him, not wanting to allow himself any clear view of it.

"_It's quite cool," Gandalf said with a wan smile.   "__What can you see?" he asked._

Sam didn't move any closer, but he looked as intently as he could at the ring.   Frodo turned it over and over in his hand, trying to figure out the mystery that Gandalf was expecting to be present.

"_Nothing……. there's nothing," _Frodo said, the band still remaining unchanged to his careful inspection.

Sam looked at the wizard and the Ranger to see both of them give a small sigh of relief.  There was something strange here that he didn't understand in the least and he doubted that Mr Frodo did, either.    

_"Wait," _Frodo said, as he turned the ring over a few more times.  This time as he looked, there was something more visible beginning to appear.

_"There are markings…….. it's in some form of Elvish…… I can't read it," _Frodo now said, holding the ring up slightly so that the etchings released by the fire could be clearly seen.

Sam was amazed that his master recognized the symbols as an Elvish language.   It just looked like a series of squiggles and curvy lines to the untrained eye of a simple hobbit like him.    They had heard Gandalf and Strider speaking Elvish to each other a few minutes earlier.  Maybe they could translate what was written on the band.

_"There are few who can.   The words are written in the tongue of Mordor which I will not utter here in the Shire," _Gandalf said.   

"Black Speech," Strider said disdainfully under his breath, but loud enough for the two hobbits to hear.__

_"In common tongue it says**: "One Ring to rule them all, One Ring to find them, One Ring to bring them all and in the darkness bind them." **_Gandalf translated.****

The words sounded ominous even in common tongue, but Frodo at least recognized the place name that Gandalf had indicated.   _"Mordor?" he repeated, knowing that it was not a place that good folk were familiar with talking about.   There of course were legends and myths aplenty, but none of them were to be uttered within the borders of the Shire._

Frodo knew of the place from his Uncle Bilbo.   He doubted if Sam had heard of such a place, even with his teachings from Bilbo.   It would not have been a story that Bilbo would have enjoyed sharing or telling to those who didn't need to know of Middle-earth's somewhat darker times.

The four of them now moved into the kitchen and gathered around the table to talk in more detail about what such a ring meant.   Strider seemed to sit as far away from the ring itself without making it obvious.  Gandalf had placed the ring near the edge of the table, so that its true origins could be explained.

Sam poured the tea into mugs as they sat and looked upon the simple looking trinket before them.    He had yet to understand what all of the concern was about.    He didn't like the idea of Frodo being frightened of anything, but it was plain to him that there were others apart from his master that held fears for its purpose.

_"This is the One Ring…….. forged by the Dark Lord Sauron himself in the fires of __Mount__Doom__," Gandalf said, leaving the sentence to sink in for a few moments.   He could no longer deny the truth, no matter how much he wanted to conceal it from Aragorn and Frodo, and indeed, himself._

_"Sauron was destroyed," _Frodo said in confusion, trying to keep it as simple as possible for Sam to understand as they progressed.    From what he understood of the brief history he had been told, the Dark Lord had been destroyed during the Last Alliance of Elves and Men.

_"_No, Frodo.   The Dark Lord was only defeated, and only for a time.   This ring was made by his own hand.   It was conceived by him and embodies all of the hatred, malice and cruelty he has felt for those in Middle-earth," Gandalf explained.   

The wizard looked over at the Ranger, who seemed to be lost in his own thoughts, but he knew that Strider would not want to relive any of this history if it could be avoided.   He was not about to tell the hobbits how he fitted into this huge puzzle.   That time would be decided by Strider himself, if he ever was of a mind to share his true heritage and background.

"Whilst the ring still exists, Middle-earth is not free from the threat of Sauron's return.   The ring and he are one.   Like body and soul, they are one.    _He needs only this ring to cover the world in a second darkness_, Frodo," Gandalf said, hoping that the true implications of what he was saying was getting through to the hobbits.

There was a part of the story, though, that Frodo found he could contribute to.   He had a little knowledge about how Bilbo had come into possession of the ring itself, though the old hobbit had chosen to leave that story out of his adventurous tales.

"_Bilbo found it in Gollum's cave," _Frodo said, remembering the version of events that his uncle had given.    He knew very little about the creature the name of whom he spoke.  He knew very little about how Bilbo's possession of the ring had mirrored Gollum's lustful ownership.

"Gollum!" Strider spat, almost as though it were a curse word upon his lips.   

"Frodo," Gandalf said, making sure that he had the hobbit's full attention before he continued.   He couldn't stress his next advice strongly enough for any currently seated at the table.   "_He must never find it….."_

"Alright, then, we hide it away like before.   We never speak of it again," Frodo said determinedly, getting up from the table and grabbing the ring.   He went into the next room and looked about expectantly for a more secure hiding spot.

"Frodo, you don't understand," Gandalf said, following him, knowing that the hobbit only had the best intentions.  

"We shan't speak of it ever again, will we, Sam?" Frodo asked, knowing that he had his friend's full support in whatever his decision might be about the fate of the ring.

"Not if you say so, Mr Frodo," Sam voiced, but not being able to help but feel that he was getting left further and further behind with all this talk about Dark Lords and evil coming to Middle-earth.    

"_Nobody knows it's here, do they, Gandalf?_" Frodo stated confidently, but then paused halfway through that though, turning back to the wizard.  _"Do they, Gandalf?" _This time he said it with a little hesitation clearly present.

At this point Strider weighed into the conversation, knowing that there was news about the creature that the wizard may yet have to learn of.  "I have rather anxious news from those of Mirkwood Forest, Gandalf," he admitted.

The wizard turned his face to the Ranger, awaiting for confirmation of what he already feared to be true.   "They were supposed to be guarding him in a prison, but somehow he escaped.   

_"There was one other that knew that Bilbo had the ring," _Gandalf said, not knowing of any other way of telling the awful truth.    _"I looked everywhere for the creature Gollum," _he said, knowing that his best efforts in the end had been insufficient.  

Gandalf had clearly already known about the creature's unexpected evasion of confinement from the Woodland realm, but he had more recent information than Strider about Gollum's fate after his escape.

"_The enemy tortured him for days," _Gandalf informed them all, "Eventually he uttered two words which they could decipher enough for them to be of great harm to this region:   '_Shire, Baggins', he said, giving the words that would betray the one who had found the ring._

_"Shire, Baggins, but that will lead them here!" _Frodo said, realising what that meant for not only him, but also for his beloved homeland and those whom he cared for.   He looked over  at Sam and couldn't help the fear knotting up inside of him at the possibility that his friend could well be threatened because he had possession of such an evil thing.

"_Take it, Gandalf, take it!"_ Frodo said, desperately holding out the accursed ring to the one he knew to be more powerful than hobbits or men.  _"You must take it," _he repeated, with a little more urgency, when it seemed that Gandalf was reluctant to hold onto it for any reason.

"_Frodo, you cannot offer me this ring_," Gandalf said, stepping back away from the temptation.    _"Understand, Frodo:  I would like to take this ring to do good.   But through me it would wield a power too great and terrible to imagine." _

Frodo was quickly running out of candidates who might take up the sword on behalf of those who needed protecting, like his fellow hobbits of the Shire.   "Strider, maybe you can take it then," he said, holding it out towards the Ranger.

If it were possible, the Ranger recoiled even further away from the temptation than the wizard.   For him, even the mere thought of temptation was too much to contemplate.   Strider found it almost too much to be in the same room with something so horribly devastating in power, but so innocent looking in appearance.

"No, Frodo, he cannot.   For reasons which will not be explained here tonight, Strider must never have possession of the ring, either," Gandalf said on Strider's behalf.   The Ranger gave a nod of thanks for Gandalf stepping in, but he could see a slight bit of hurt reflected in Frodo's eyes about being treated like a child once again.

_"But it cannot stay in the Shire!" _Frodo shouted, pointing out the obvious.

_"No, no it can't," _Gandalf agreed, seeing that Frodo understood some of what he had been told.

Then like a lightning bolt, struck the truth of what the task should be and who should be the one to carry it out.   For a brief second, Frodo looked over at Sam.    He looked at who and what Sam represented and meant to him.    If the ring stayed and evil did come, he might be putting at risk all that he loved and cherished about his homeland.  

With a half apologetic smile to his friend, who still yet had to realise what his master was about to offer, he turned back to the Ranger and the wizard.   "_What must I do?"_

Sam's eyebrows just about disappeared into his hairline as he gaped at the question that his master asked Gandalf.   What was Mr Frodo doing?   Surely he couldn't be offering to be doing something about all of this evil that was being spoken of.    

Frodo didn't have a fighting bone in his body.   He was a gentlehobbit, one who looked at nothing but the good in others, even when he was laughed at or called unsavoury names.  There must be another way of defeating whoever this Dark Lord was without asking his dear friend to put himself at risk of being hurt or worse.

Gandalf knew that what he was about to tell Frodo would almost be like another stab to his already hurting chest.   "I will leave tonight.    Strider, you must be packed and prepared to leave at a minutes' notice."

"Leave? But you only just got here!  There must be another way, Gandalf," Frodo said, his voice full of emotion at the thought of losing a most important ally at their most desperate hour.

"If what we have spoken of tonight does become our reality, then I must find out some things.  There are questions to be asked.   Answers to be sought," Gandalf said, knowing that his timing for leaving couldn't have been worse.

"Where will I go?" Frodo asked, thinking at this point in time that his journey was to be alone.   

"Strider will take you on a safe passage to the village of Bree.   You must trust in what he says, he knows the roads better than any other to aid you on your travels," Gandalf advised.

"What will happen when Strider and I get to Bree, where will you be?   Will the ring be safe there?"  Frodo asked, his head feeling like it was finding it hard to keep up with the flow of information and the endless questions that were forming in his mind.

_"I don't have any answers Frodo, I must see the head of my order.   He is both wise and powerful, he will know what to do_," Gandalf replied_.   "I will be waiting for you at the inn called the Prancing Pony."_

_"You will have to leave the name of Baggins behind you, for once on the road, that name will not be safe outside of the Shire.  Strider travel only by day if you can, and keep off the roads," _Gandalf advised.

"Mr Frodo's not going anywhere without me," Sam declared rather forcefully for such a gentle-natured hobbit.    He didn't know exactly where his master was heading off to, but he wasn't about to let his friend walk off alone into dangers unknown.

"Of course not, Sam, I wouldn't think of letting you stay.   You may not be safe here, either, if it becomes known that you are friends with Frodo," the wizard said, seeing the stout hobbit pale considerably at such a notion.

"We shouldn't be seen leaving the Shire together, either," Gandalf now said, knowing that there could well be spies watching their movements.  "I will leave now and find out what information I can."

"All of this is happening too fast, Gandalf," Frodo said in frustration as thoughts swirled in and around him, out of control.   That, coupled with the idea that Sam could very well be in danger being associated with him, caused him even more distress and anxiety.

By now, Gandalf had gathered what little possessions he had brought with him, ready to leave in the night for roads unknown.    He had spoken of leaving his cart in the Gamgee's barn until he had a chance to return to claim it.   His passage would be swifter just on horseback.

Frodo and Sam now stood beside Gandalf as he prepared to mount his horse and gallop off out of Hobbiton.   Strider stood at the gateway, able to hear everything that was being said and seeing what was transpiring, but allowing the wizard to explain his need to depart so quickly to the two hobbits.   

The Ranger deemed that he would only add to the confusion, frustration and emotion of the moment should he weigh into the conversation and try to convince Frodo that this was a necessary journey to be taken.  One of but many that surely would soon be upon them.

_"Remember, Frodo, the Ring is trying to get back to its Master.  It wants to be found.  Never put it on, for the forces of the Dark Lord will be drawn to its power," _Gandalf said as an addition to his parting words.

Gandalf could see the mix of emotions playing out on Frodo's face.  Just like the fear and anxiety though, he could also plainly see anger and frustration beginning to emerge in the normally timid hobbit.   Frodo was about to be thrown into a world he knew very little of or had experience of and he felt like everyone was talking about him and not directly to him.    The wizard knew that there was very little chance of being able to explain sufficiently the need for haste in his journey and the urgency of the information that he sought.

"Look after Frodo, Samwise, and keep safe, both of you," Gandalf said, briefly embracing both hobbits.    "We will see each other again soon, you can be certain of that," he added, trying to give them a little confidence in the task that Frodo had placed upon himself.

Frodo stood on the crest of the hill outside Bag End, watching the figure of Gandalf run at full gallop away from him.   Somehow things were just going too fast and he didn't have time to stop and think through everything that had been discussed.   He could feel all the emotions that had spent forth after Bilbo's departure well up inside of him again.  Frodo felt as though he was on the outside, looking in.

Sam had yet to say anything, knowing that Gandalf's departure, even though witnessed, was just adding to his master's heartache and sense of abandonment.   The sandy-haired hobbit stood near Strider, waiting for Frodo to indicate when he was ready to go back inside Bag End.   Once inside maybe they could make better sense of what had been said.   

Frodo was forcing back the tears of frustration that threatened to spill down his pale cheeks.   With only a limited amount of sleep earlier that day, fatigue was beginning to creep back into his small body once again.    The emotional tug of war going on within him caused his energy levels to wan even further.   

"Frodo?" Strider asked, looking with a frown on his face as the hobbit appeared to sway on his feet a little.   Both Sam and Strider watched in alarm as their friend sank to his knees, appearing to let the tide of feelings overtake him.   

Frodo's frustration seemed to overflow even more when he let out an animalistic cry of anger, raising his clenched fists towards the sky in gesture.  "Why……. I just want to know why!" he said, bowing his head towards the ground and letting his tears wet the ground in front of him.

"Mr Frodo," Sam said, barely above a whisper, not really knowing what he could do to help ease his master's suffering.   He placed a gentle hand on the trembling shoulder, hoping that so simple as touch would offer some comfort.

"Are you alright Frodo?" Strider asked, trying to pull the exhausted hobbit to his feet.   He was completely unprepared for the reaction that he would invoke.

"How much of this did you know in advance?" Frodo said, jumping to his feet and stepping back from the Ranger while he hurled accusations.   He purposefully strode to Bag End and stood in front of the fireplace, waiting for Strider's answer.  

The surge of frustration seemed to give the hobbit renewed energy as he paced back and forth, finding it difficult to control the scathing words that were on his tongue.   

"I didn't know anything about Gandalf leaving tonight Frodo," Strider responded.  From the look on Frodo's face it was clear that he was merely looking for someone to take his emotion and frustration out on rather than just point the finger of blame.   If he was to be that person, Strider was willing to bear the brunt of harsh words.

"Don't lie to me," Frodo said, tersely slapping away Sam's hand trying to prevent him getting angrier.  "You knew about Bilbo's leaving.   That's why you came here to Bag End in the first place, isn't it?"

Sam looked surprised at the betrayal evident on Frodo's face.   He didn't know exactly what Frodo was upset about, but his tears had all but dried up, now to be replaced by demanding questions and hostility.   One glance at the Ranger, and Sam could see that Frodo had been correct, although he didn't want to believe it.

"Frodo………," Strider said, trying to explain, but he quickly saw that the hobbit was in no mood for explanations and resigned himself to his fate.   "Yes, I knew about your uncle's intentions to leave."

Sam was the one most shocked.   Frodo had suspected it at least.   Sam now stood with his mouth agape for a minute, trying to fathom what the Ranger was saying.   Then his face turned a little more grim and he stood beside Frodo, unhappy at this admission. 

"I heard you, that first night you arrived," Frodo said.   "I didn't know your name then, but I could hear you and Bilbo talking in the living room.   You told him that he would have to leave soon.   Bilbo said he knew this."   It was about this time that any frustration and anger drained out of Frodo and his features softened as fatigue and sadness began to take over.

"I am just looking for answers, Strider.   Is that too much to ask?" Frodo voiced, sounding a little choked with tears as his shoulders slumped in posture.

Strider walked over to the hobbit and knelt down in front of him, to make sure that what he had to say would not be misunderstood.  "I am sorry that you had to find out that way Frodo.   If I or indeed your uncle had known of your presence, those conversations would not have taken place that night.   Despite what I knew then, I doubt even I would have been able to prevent Bilbo leaving when he did."

"You do not have to stay any longer if don't wish to Strider," Frodo said.   "Bilbo is gone  and I don't know when or if he will be coming back," giving a slight smile with his words of release.

"Frodo, understand that I have been a protector of the Shire and all who dwell within her borders for a long time.   I will not waver from that duty, especially when the risk of danger comes closer to your door.    I swore to protect your Uncle Bilbo and see him on a safe path because of the evil ring that he had possession of," Strider explained.   

Wrapping Frodo's small hands within his much larger ones, and determined to keep eye contact with the lad, he said, "I came here to protect a Baggins from the evil that is beginning to grow.   The fact that Bilbo has left doesn't change that pledge.   If you are to be that Baggins that I protect whilst carrying the ring, so be it."

"I apologize, Strider, for taking out my anger on you," Frodo said, truly ashamed of the manner in which he had addressed the Ranger.   Some of these events were completely out of his control and knowledge.  Others not.  That was still no excuse for harsh criticism or unkind accusations.    "Forgive me, I am sorry," he added.  

"You have no need to be sorry, Frodo.   I understand that all of this information is too much to take in all at once.   I have a hard time myself believing that such dangers lurk just outside the Shire.   But lurk they do, and it is my solemn vow that your race and many others of Middle-earth will not fall under Sauron's dominant will or malicious actions.

Sam sighed audibly in relief, happy that there was no more tension in the room.    He didn't want to offend Strider, but it also pained him to see Frodo angry or upset as he had been.  "How about a nice cup of tea?" he asked, trying his best to clear the air.

"That would be lovely, Sam," Frodo said, the tiredness becoming more oppressive by the minute.   He longed just to sit in a comfortable chair with a hot cup of tea and think about nothing at all.    

"I agree, but, Frodo," Strider said, pre-warning of their need to be vigilant, "We must make preparations to leave as Gandalf says.  I will make a list of the things we need.  I believe your well stocked pantry should suit our purposes enough until we can reach Bree and gather fresh supplies."

"This is all happening too fast," Frodo said as he sagged into an armchair, letting his hands fall limply in his lap.   He put a hand to his forehead and tried to sort out what they needed to do next.  His eyes began to drift close from weariness no matter how much he demanded himself to stay awake.

"Let him sleep for a while, Samwise," Strider said in a quiet voice.   "I could use your help, though, if don't mind.  We will only be in the next room and should hear Frodo if he needs anything," seeing the stout hobbit torn between wanting to stay with his master and his sense of duty of helping the Ranger.   Sam nodded his head in agreement, hoping that Frodo would get some rest.

For the next two hours, while Frodo slept undisturbed in the living room, Sam and Strider went about gathering the things they would need to take with them on their journey.   Sam took care of his master's few changes of clothes and his own belongings, whilst Strider rummaged through the food stores in the cellar and deemed which long-lasting foodstuffs they could carry between the three of them.    

The Ranger was a little unfamiliar with the foods that hobbits liked in abundance and he asked Sam for his advice on what he and Frodo would deem worthy.    Sam suggested fruit, especially apples, because they were easy to carry and required no cooking, and most of all they were a favourite of Mr Frodo's.   He suggested many others and as he prepared his own pack, he placed inside a few intricately carved boxes that held herbs and spices for cooking.   Even if there wasn't much game to find on their journey, at least he deemed their pickings could be made more flavoursome.

Sam made sure that his backpack was loaded with the more essential but heavier items like cooking pots and pans.   He left the lighter and less restrictive stuff for Frodo's smaller pack, hoping that there would be no argument to the contrary about who would be carrying what.    He had already deemed that his master had enough to carry, and that included his thoughts and the threats that Gandalf had warned them about. 

Just as he was closing Frodo's pack, Sam remembered something that was missing.   It was very light and wouldn't take up much room and he knew that his master would be loath to leave them behind.    He carefully searched them in Frodo's bedside table and found the small wood carving tools, wrapped in the cloth Frodo had displayed when giving the figurines.    He slipped them into a small pouch on the side of Frodo's pack and then closed the laces at the top, declaring that they would be ready to leave when it became necessary.

Strider was once again seated outside the door of Bag End, slowly smoking his pipe whilst he was deep in thought.   Sam was inside the kitchen preparing a light supper for all when Frodo appeared in the room, rubbing tiredly at this eyes and taking a seat at the table.

"Hello, Mr Frodo, just in time to enjoy a cup of tea," Sam announced, placing a steaming cup in front of his friend.   From looking at this master, he could plainly see that the day's reign of broken sleep was making Frodo more tired.   The dark-haired hobbit saw none of the concern on Sam's face as he kept his gaze focused off into the distance, staring into the flames of the fire once more.

"Sam, there are some things that I need to discuss with you," Frodo said, not wavering in concentration.   "Things that I need to talk to about that are most important and cannot wait," he added, not wanting to unduly scare the younger hobbit.

"Alright then, Mr Frodo," Sam said, pouring himself a cup of tea and seating himself directly across from his friend, waiting to hear what was troubling his master.

Frodo pulled his attention away from the flames, but when he looked at Sam's warm hazel eyes, he wasn't quite sure of how to approach the subject.  "Sam, I know that you have been my friend for a very long time……," he began.    

Sam frowned a little, trying to think of a reason why Mr Frodo would be wanting to talk about their friendship.    To him, their friendship was an intangible thing.  Like the sun rising and setting each day.   You didn't have to think about it.   Things like that just happened.  "And shall always be, Mr Frodo……..," he replied, hoping that his master would take some comfort in that proclamation.

"I know Sam, that is why it is so difficult for me to say this," Frodo said, clearly unhappy about having to talk about this at all.    Sam didn't deserve any of this, but it was for the very reason that they were friends that he felt compelled to do this.

"You don't have to come with me….," Frodo said, leaving the sentence unfinished, hoping that it was enough for Sam to realise what he was asking.

"Surely you don't mean for me to…….," Sam said, almost on his feet and ready to give his master a dozen different reasons why he shouldn't be left behind.    Frodo held his hand up though, stopping him from uttering anything further for a moment.

"Hear me out, please, Sam," Frodo pleaded.    "Please, I don't ask that you stay here in the Shire because I don't want you with me on this journey.  Nothing would make me happier than to take you everywhere with me.   But please consider what you would be giving up if you left here.   Your brothers and sisters, your Gaffer.   I hate to even think of what he would say if he knew that I was leading you off on some wild adventure," he said with a laugh.   The laughter, however, was very fake and didn't even sound like it came from his lips.

"Now you hear me out, Mr Frodo, Sir, and don't be thinking that I haven't already thought through such things.   I don't mean to go against what you say, but I have thought through going with you.   It has been the only thing on my mind from the minute you told Mr Gandalf that you would take the ring out of the Shire," Sam said in his own defence.

"I don't claim to know much about a lot of things, Mr Frodo.   You are the educated one here, and I am just a plain old gardener from Hobbiton and a Gamgee at that," Sam continued.  He took Frodo's thin, smooth hands in his much rougher ones, "But what I do know is that in times of trouble, like what your about to face, friends stick by one another."

"What about the things you will have to sacrifice for the sake of our journey Sam?  A nice comfortable bed every night and warm blankets.  Good food and all the other comforts that we will surely leave behind us for the road ahead."

"Think about all of the things we will see along the way, Mr Frodo, and the people we will meet and learn about.   That's got to be better than staying behind here in Hobbiton and closing our minds to the rest of the world that is just beyond the borders.   Your tales have always led me to believe that there is a marvellous world out there to explore.   And I can think of nobody better than you to do it with, if you take my meaning," Sam stated.

"Sam, I can't even tell you where we are headed, except for the parts about Bree that you already heard about.    I don't know how long our journey will take or which path we will need to head down before it is over," Frodo said, trying to open Sam's mind fully to the uncertainty and naivety that he was plagued with.

"Then we shall go down those paths together, Mr Frodo, make no mistake.   I will not let you go off on your own into such danger.  I will be there to walk every step with you and remind you of what we have to come home to when we are finished," Sam promised.

"And what about those you leave behind, Sam?" Frodo asked again, knowing that he was free of relatives to worry about him when he left the Shire.  Sam however had his family and others who would surely miss him a great deal.   "Rosie," he whispered, knowing of Sam's heart and its desires.

Sam looked to the bottom of his cup before responding, not able to lie to his master about that particular subject.    "It's true and I cannot deny it, Mr Frodo.   I do care for Rosie Cotton.    I guess I always will, even if our love is only to be fleeting glances from afar."

Then trying his best to lessen the awkwardness that hung in the air, he added,  "We don't how long we will be gone anyway, Mr Frodo.   We might be only gone a week or two and our adventures will be over and we can return home and pick up where we left off," Sam said in jest.   Somehow feeling, though, that what he said wasn't to be the case at all.

Frodo's face turned downcast even further, as he tried to bring himself to utter the solemn sentiment on his lips_.    'If we ever make it home.' He never let those words reach Sam's ears.   He drank the last of his tea and got up from the table, feeling as though not everything had been said that needed to be._

**********************************

Later that evening, Frodo found himself alone once again.  Not out of his own choice this time around, but Strider and Sam were getting some much needed sleep of their own.  It had been deemed that they would prepare to depart sometime the next day and all would need to be well-rested before the journey.

Frodo should have been sleeping himself and he bemused himself about Sam's words if his friend knew of his wakefulness that this hour.    Such as it was, though, Frodo found that he had too many thoughts plaguing his mind for him to unwind enough and find peaceful slumber.

It was shortly after midnight that the hobbit found himself wandering into Bilbo's study, surveying the various relics on the bookshelves and eyeing the endless piles of manuscripts and maps that littered the floor.   In the back of his mind, he was telling himself that he should tidy up a bit and find a home for all the misplaced items.  But on pondering that, he refrained from doing just that, lightly playing with the curled edge of a map by the fire instead.

The clutter and the disorder were traits that had followed his uncle since the very first day he had stepped inside the large smial.   Bilbo had always said he knew where everything was, but Frodo  hadn't really believe that.   To pack up everything in this room and remove the dust would somehow be admitting finally that Bilbo was no longer a part of Bag End.   

As Frodo's thoughts drifted even further back to the good times he had spent with Bilbo, he was suddenly reminded of the fact that Bilbo had made him heir and successor to Bag End.   And now, he was making plans to leave his uncle's luxurious home with no idea of knowing when he would return and no real plans for what would become of his uncle's worldly possessions whilst he was away.

Frodo had no family apart from Bilbo to leave Bag End to.   Suddenly an idea struck him as to what he could do to solve the problem.   He certainly didn't want Bilbo's treasured possessions and money falling into the hands of the Sackville-Bagginses, nor could he take any of it with him.   He had to find an alternative solution.   Frodo knew he didn't have anybody that he could name as his own heir to Bag End…… or did he?.

In the dead of night while Strider and Sam slept soundly, Frodo worked furiously at his desk, writing until his fingers felt numb from trying to get it all down so quickly.   When he was finished, he held up the final document and inspected it carefully.    He smiled to himself, knowing that he had definitely made the right decision.

Carefully and quietly, the young hobbit snuck out of Bag End in the darkness and crept up to Number Three Bag Shot Row.   He hated to wake Sam's father so late at night, but didn't have much choice as they were due to depart very soon.

"Mr Frodo!" Hamfast Gamgee exclaimed, and then looked cautiously out the door to make sure that he had not spoken the young master's name too loudly.  "What brings you here this time of night?  Is something the matter with Sam?"

"Oh, no, Mr Gamgee, and I do apologize so much for disturbing you at such a late hour," Frodo said.  "It's just that I am planning to leave early tomorrow and need something done urgently for me after I have left," he explained.  

"Leave Mr Frodo?" the Gaffer questioned in puzzlement.  "Now where would a young gentlehobbit be off to at such a short notice?" he asked not wanting to pry, but feeling the nervousness that radiated from the lad.   "Ye aren't in any trouble now?" he added, thinking that it would be something quite dire to make Frodo leave so suddenly.

"I am sorry, Mr Gamgee, but where I am going to must remain secret.   Inside that

envelope there is a smaller one, addressed to a place known to me.   It is most urgent that it get there soon.   I was hoping that you would agree to post it for me tomorrow morning.  I have placed enough money inside to cover the cost.   I cannot tell you how long I will be gone, but would you do me the courtesy of looking after Bag End until I return?" Frodo asked.  "I am sorry I could not have let you know sooner of my intentions."

"Surely I will, Mr Frodo, and you can be sure that I will tell no one of your goings," the Gaffer promised.    "Be mindful as you go now and keep safe.   Make sure that Sam does what he is told, too," he smiled, already guessing that his son would be following his master.

Frodo stared in astonishment at the Gaffer as he smiled, nodding his head that the Gaffer had already guessed Sam's inclusion in this journey.   It was almost as if Hamfast was giving his blessing to Sam's go.   Maybe he didn't understand why, but he didn't need to. 

"No doubt I would have to tie him up in a sack to stop him going with you, Mr Frodo.   And if I let him out tomorrow, he would surely try and follow after you anyways," the Gaffer surmised.   "Let him fill his head and heart with songs and tales, and then he can return home where he belongs."

Frodo smiled in reply to the Gaffer's comments, knowing them to be all too true.  "I will bring him back safely to you," he vowed.

Frodo bid the Gaffer goodnight and farewell, secretly hoping that the Gaffer would be able to keep the solemn promise he had made.   He opened the back door to Bag End, confident that Strider and Sam were still asleep inside and that his midnight stroll had gone unnoticed.

"A little late to be outside, Frodo," Strider whispered from the darkened kitchen.   The Ranger was seated at the table, steam rising from the hot tea sitting before him.

"W-what, who……," Frodo said as he startled at the voice addressing him.   He only caught himself when he remembered that Sam was sleeping and would come running if he heard Frodo's yelp of surprise.   "Sorry, Strider, I didn't realise you were awake," he added, going back in his mind, certain that the man had seemed asleep when he had left.

Strider could not help but be amused at the look on Frodo's face as he came through the door.  Like a small child being caught with their hand in the sweet jar before meal time.    "Sam would have been worried about you."

"You won't tell him, will you?" Frodo responded, making the Ranger smile once again at having the hobbit on the back foot.    Strider was sure that it wasn't often that Frodo was caught out like this.   He doubted that the midnight stroll was a regular occurrence.

"Your secret is safe with me," Strider assured Frodo, seeing the hobbit visibly relax upon hearing this.   "You need to try and get some sleep, Frodo.   I do not know how much longer we can delay leaving here."

"Thank you, I will," Frodo said and headed to his bedroom to do just that.   He sat on the bed, still fully dressed, too tired to bother changing into a nightshirt.

Strider had also returned to his bed, hoping that he too could fall back to sleep before they needed to start the journey.   He hoped that Frodo and Sam were up to the arduous terrain that would be their road.

It was about half an hour later that true evil began to creep into the sanctuary of the Shire_.   Frodo had been asleep for less than half of that time, finding his mind too preoccupied with thoughts about what task lay before him.   It felt like he had barely closed his eyes when they snapped open again at the sound of something at his window._

At first, Frodo lay in his bed, still trying to work out if he had heard anything at all.  Maybe it was just the wind blowing a branch of a tree against the window pane outside.   He might have been able to convince himself of that if it wasn't for the gnawing feeling of dread tightening his stomach into knots of fear.

With hindsight, it might have been more prudent just to call out to Strider, but Frodo felt rather silly about having to do that, particularly since he didn't even know what was making the noise in the first place.    He got up off the bed to investigate.

The window was the one situated over his writing desk.  He pressed his face up close to the glass and tried to see out into the night.    At first there was nothing and he was just about to turn away and go back to bed, berating himself for being so childish.

Just as he turned, though, he saw something out of the corner of his eye moving against the ebony backdrop.    He swallowed the lump that was forming in his throat, forcing himself to remain as calm as possible and not to panic.

As that thought came to mind, a hooded figure made its presence known to him by peering back at him through the window, almost like Merry and Pippin had done the day they arrived.   This time, though, there was no mirth or foolishness involved.   Only macabre horror and indescribable terror.

Frodo couldn't find the voice to scream out against what he saw.   His lungs seemed paralysed by his fear as his eyes were forced to watch the figure look back at him.  The room felt incredibly cold and closed in, his breaths coming in short pants.

The figure was cloaked by night itself, there seeming to be no differentiation between where the darkness of the night began and the shadowy figure ended.   It was only that the fabric of its tattered robes rustled against the wind that made it possible to perceive it.

Then, just as Frodo thought his heart could know no greater fear, the figure disappeared from the window.   It was swallowed up by the night.    The terror was not over yet.  Perhaps it was moving about outside Bag End , waiting for the correct time to strike out at the occupants.

Frodo could feel himself trembling slightly from the fear, his legs feeling like jelly and threatening to betray him at any time.    Suddenly the door to his bedroom burst open, Strider rushing inside, sword drawn.    How the Ranger had sensed that danger was close, Frodo didn't know, but he sagged in relief, collapsing to the floor in a heap and curling up, trying to fathom what he had just seen.

"Frodo!" Strider said in alarm, noting the dishevelled and frightened look upon the hobbit's face.   

"Mr Frodo, Sir!" Sam cried out, rushing into the room not a second behind the Ranger and immediately going to the crumpled form of his master, still seated on the floor.

Strider knew that there was no time to check on Frodo's mental or physical state, though.  They were under threat, and they needed to get away _now.  _"Sam, get Frodo and prepare to leave."

"We are leaving now?" Sam frowned, not wanting to disobey the Ranger's instructions, but noting the poor condition of Frodo and that it was still very dark outside.

"We cannot linger any longer," Strider said, gently coaxing Frodo to his feet and helping the disorientated hobbit towards the front door of the smial.   Sam quickly gathered their packs, still keeping a worried look on his master as much as he could.

Frodo seemed to regain a little composure, but he still had a frightened expression on his face, and he kept wondering if what he had seen was lurking about.

"Do you have the ring, Frodo?" Strider asked in a whisper.  The Ranger had a strong assumption about what might have caused so much fear in the gentle hobbit, but he was not willing to wait around and try and explain it at this moment.

Frodo nodded, not willing to trust his voice yet.   He was trying to put on a brave face for Sam, who was genuinely concerned for his master and thinking that he was looking altogether too pale.

"How much sleep have you had, Frodo?" Strider asked, knowing about his midnight walk and assuming that it could not have been much more than an hour's rest.  It was evident from Frodo's wan smile and that it had been considerably less than that.

"You have had naught all day, Mr Frodo," Sam said worriedly, hoping that Strider would take his words seriously.   His master needed rest if they were to continue afar.  Proper sleep, too;  comfortable, warm and undisturbed.   

Strider smiled at Sam's subtle hints on his master's behalf, already knowing that he had no intention of pushing the hobbits beyond their limits at this early stage of their journey.   He needed to get them to safety first, out of the Shire.  They could make their way further from there. 

"We will travel for about an hour, then there is a series of sheltered caves where we can rest for a while.   It looks like it might storm later tonight, and I want us to be dry before that happens," Strider informed them.

Frodo couldn't have cared if they just kept going that night, so long as they didn't have to face what he had just witnessed.    The further away the better, but he noted the storm clouds that Strider noted and didn't wish for any of them to be forced to walk through the thunder and rain.

"Lead on, Strider, and we will follow," Frodo announced, shouldering his backpack and trying to straighten himself up a little, ready to begin.    

True to his word, about an hour after they had left Bag End, they found the series of  sheltered caves that Strider had spoken of.   They were large enough for them to use to keep dry and warm.   Sam had begun to boil some tea, and he had gone about setting out a blanket for his master to sit upon rather than the hard rocky cave floor.

The Ranger had collected some wood and allowed them a small fire, hoping that they could enjoy a few more comforts this close to Hobbiton that may have to be forsaken later in the journey to ensure a safe passage.

"I'll have a nice hot cup of tea ready for you in a minute, Mr Frodo," Sam said, his back turned to his master, unable to see him.   He was concentrating on the boiling pot of water over the fire, and tending to the pot of tea he was promising.

"Shhhh, Sam, I don't think you need to worry about any for your master," Strider whispered.    He was a little concerned that Frodo had remained silent on the first leg of their journey and had made no mention of what had scared him so much back at Bag End.   Frodo was probably trying to avoid the subject he surmised, or at least tell himself that it wasn't real.

"Well, bless me," Sam said, keeping is voice to a minimum as he turned and spied

Frodo.   The dark-haired hobbit was leaning against the wall of the cave, his eyes

closed and his face lined with fatigue.  "You are tired, aren't you my dear," he said to his sleeping master.

Sam then proceeded to gently lay Frodo down on the blanket he had already laid out.  He used his own cloak as a crude pillow and covered his master with another blanket for warmth.    The rain outside had just begun to fall and the thunder had started rolling across the night's sky.     Thankfully though, Frodo paid no heed to it and slept on oblivious to the weather outside.

It was about four hours later that Frodo awoke to a cloud clap of thunder overhead.   He looked about, a little confused as to where he was at first.   Then it all came flooding back to him.   He grimaced a little at his stiff body, throwing the blanket off and looking about the cave.   Sam and Strider were asleep.  

There was still an hour or so before dawn, and the trees outside the cave were still shrouded in soft hues of morning.    The rain had slowed to barely a drizzle, and the leaves of the trees were sodden from the heavy downpour the night before.

The fire had burnt down to mere embers.   Frodo assigned himself the task of trying to find some dry wood.   He didn't think he would need to wander very far, hence there was no sense in waking Sam or Strider.   If he was to be on this journey, he needed to pull his own weight.

Pulling on his dark green cloak, Frodo left the security of the cave and began scouting for some dry wood for the fire.   It was almost fifteen minutes later that he found himself in a more wooded part of the forest.     The trees were larger there, and their trunks were covered by a greenish moss.   They reached up into the sky as far as the eye could see and probably further.   

Frodo found himself pausing often to let his eyes adjust to the variations of light.  Some parts were lighter where the canopy was less dense, and he could see the sunlight beginning to shine through.   Then he would walk a short distance and the canopy would become thicker and the sunlight had yet to penetrate and allow him to see more easily.

On one such occasion, Frodo made the mistake of spotting a lighter area of the forest, unaware of the danger that lay at his feet.    He had only just begun to walk across a pile of rust coloured leaves that covered the forest floor.    Without warning the ground beneath his feet gave way, leaving him no time to try and escape.    

Frodo gave a startled cry as he felt himself falling downwards.   He tried to keep himself as upright as possible, not knowing when he would hit the bottom.    The hole proved not to be very deep, but his fall was abruptly stopped by his feet landing awkwardly.   He felt a great pain in one foot and cried out a second time before falling face down into a muddy puddle.    

The hobbit had struck his head on a rock that lay partially submerged in the murky water.   He was badly dazed and lay there briefly, trying to summon enough energy to call out for help.   When he lifted his head, the world above and the trees overhead began to spin, making him dizzy.   On his next attempt,  he barely opened his eyes when he fell  unconscious.    The light rain continued to fall onto his already sodden body, plastering his damp hair to his pale face.   

TO BE CONTINUED……………

Hi folks,   I deliberately left out Bill the Pony when they left Bag End, sorry for all those horse lovers out there.   

I deliberately left out Strider telling Frodo and Sam what the dark hooded figures were – he will tell them later.   

Yes I know that they have only gone a short way out of Hobbiton – but they are on their way – things can only get darker and more riskier from here.   Lots of angst and hurt/comfort to come as well as some cute fluffy stuff.

The letter Frodo left the Gaffer will also be explained later in the story – much later.   And Strider's story will also be told at a different place.   I have certain places where I want things explained, and not much of it will happen while their in the forests and being hunted.

Sometimes this story seems like I am telling it after it has happened, particularly where Frodo is thinking about what might happen – that is deliberate in a sense – most people know what is going to happen – to a certain degree – so having Frodo think about leaving and that maybe they won't come back are in that category.

Please read and review.   Thanks for all those who have so far.  I really appreciate your time and comments.

JULES


	9. A Friendship Explained

ESCAPE THE DARKNESS

**By JULES**

**Authors Quick Note – **This story explores the idea about what might have happened if Strider had come to the Shire to forewarn Bilbo Baggins about the RingWraiths that would soon come hunting for the One Ring. Commences a few days before Bilbo's Birthday party and before Gandalf returns to the Shire as well. 

Strider had vows to protect Bilbo when the RingWraiths are sent by the Dark Lord, but he is unaware that the legacy of who is to carry the Ring to be destroyed falls upon a totally different Baggins hobbit. 

**Disclaimer -  I** do not own any of these characters but enjoy writing them and their adventures together.

**Notes about this chapter:    **The personalities that I have written for Paladin and

Eglantine Took and Saradoc and Esmeralda Brandybuck are totally my own interpretation.    They may not represent the true version as Tolkien envisaged in his books.   I just thought it would be fun for Frodo to think about sort of trouble he might find himself in when returning to explain why they were gone for so long.    No doubt, when they do return, something very different will occur and it won't be as light-hearted as described in this chapter.   But that is a very long story away.

The talk between Sam and Aragorn about how Sam and Frodo's friendship came about is totally made up.   I have no idea when Bell Gamgee passed away, but explored the idea that it might have been that tragic event that brought the already two friends closer together.

Also, the cornfields are a little further away than may have been mentioned.   I also changed where Merry and Pippin were told about going to Bree as there is too much going to be happening in the next chapter between the Cornfield and the Brandywine for them to stop and discuss their intended destination.

The events in the Cornfields was just a light-hearted version of what was seen in the movie in addition to my own imagination running away with me.    I don't think it came out quite as good as I wished it to, but that's water under the bridge now.

**A Friendship Explained **

Eventually, it would be the searing pain in his head that would bring Frodo back to consciousness rather than the light drizzle still falling at various intervals.

As he opened his eyes very slowly, Frodo decided to gauge exactly where he was before trying the arduous task of moving from his uncomfortable position.

Frodo gingerly reached a hand up to inspect the spot on the side of his head where the pain was most intense.   He brought it down again and was relieved to see only a slight smear of blood.     Thankfully, the wound wasn't deep, but it was certainly causing more pain for the moment that he would like to admit.

He didn't know how much time had lapsed from when he had fallen until now, but deemed it couldn't have been any great length of time.   If that had been the case, he would have no doubt been found already by a concerned Aragorn and a distressed Sam.

Frodo tried to assess any further injuries he might have sustained during his rapid descent.     His arms seemed to move without hindrance, but his right foot was definitely a different story.  For some unknown reason, the pain became intensified as he tried to move the leg.   

A sharp, shooting pain ran up the length of the limb, so much so that it almost took his breath away.     He forced himself to regulate his breathing in order to deal with the pain until it began to ease.  Unfortunately, there was very little relief forthcoming.    Looking at his muddy and sodden position though, Frodo knew that he couldn't very well stay for long where he was.

Clenching his teeth at the coursing pain in his leg and the throbbing in his head, he pulled himself into a half-seated position, once again giving himself a brief moment to battle the pain in his ankle.    He didn't dare look at it for fear of what he might find.   He had had little dealings with broken limbs but his inability to move the leg even slightly caused him to think that break might be exactly what the injury was.

Pain was throbbing inside his skull, robbing him of any lengthy coherent 

or rational thought for an escape plan.    He put his hand to his temple and tried to massage some of the pain away so that he could take better stock of his situation.   By now, he was sincerely hoping that he was being missed and that his companions were trying to find him.

Frodo could now see that he had fallen into some sort of pit.   The soil at the bottom had turned into mud after the overnight storm.   Looking towards the sky, he could see the canopy of the trees and the sunlight that was starting to emerge through the clouds.   The drizzle had stopped and the clouds overhead were beginning to break up and reveal blue sky.

He looked around at the walls of the pit and hoped that he would be able to pull himself out.    He could see protruding roots of trees and jagged pieces of rock embedded in the subsoil that could act as footholds or be used for clinging to while climbing out.   Deciding that he was not getting any drier where he sat, it was time to give his idea a try.

Once again he gritted his teeth, and using some of the larger protruding roots, he pulled himself into a standing position without placing any weight onto his injured ankle.    He looked down at it and could already see a great deal of swelling and discolouring of the skin.

Frodo swallowed hard as he tried to think how he was going to manage with only one foot.       Maybe it wasn't as bad as he had first thought and would hold up, so long as he only placed a small amount of weight on it for a very brief moment.  Just long enough to get his good foot into position for the next step.

Grabbing a tree root in both hands and willing himself that his idea would work, Frodo closed his eyes and placed his good foot on a rock and pushed himself higher.    He sagged in relief when that the first step had been successful.     He then went to place his bad foot on a rock not far away, just for long enough to make the next foothold with his good foot.

He was unprepared for the resulting pain and screamed in agony as his ankle collapsed beneath him and sent him tumbling back down to the bottom of the pit from where he had climbed.   For a few minutes, he could do nothing but lay on the muddy ground in absolute pain, tears streaming down his face.

Resigning himself to the fact that he wasn't going to escape his entrapment any time soon, and in an effort to try and battle the pain in his foot as it competed with his head, Frodo unclasped the cloak from around his shoulders.   It was sodden and muddy just like the rest of him, but he used it as best he could to wrap it around himself.   He was beginning to feel a little chilled.

Without even realising it, Frodo had laid the side of his head against the side wall of the pit and closed his eyes in exhaustion.    A leaf was stuck to a cheek on his pale face, pinched in pain.   _'Please find me, Strider,' _he thought before falling into a fitful doze in his wet clothes at the bottom of the pit.

Just as Frodo was regaining consciousness at the bottom of the muddy pit, back at the cave, some distance away, the early morning light was beginning to awaken one of his companions.

Strider cursed to himself harshly when he realised that he had fallen into a deeper sleep than he would normally have done.    He wasn't sure if it was because he was becoming used to the company of Frodo and Sam or if it was their simple approach to things that made him feel more relaxed than usual.

He had not awoken to the crack of thunder that had disturbed Frodo, and both he and Sam had been blissfully unaware of the danger that had befallen Frodo in the dense forest near the caves.

The Ranger stood up inside the cave and looked over at the slumbering form of Sam as he lay still immersed in peaceful sleep.    It had taken Sam a considerable amount of time to find a comfortable position in the cave, not being a hobbit that usually slept outside or indeed away from the confines of his own home in the Shire.     

It was only as Strider found himself looking over at Sam that he realised with dread that there was no second hobbit sleeping beside him.    Quickly, he looked about the cave  to the spot where he had seen Frodo sleeping earlier in the night.   No sign of him anywhere.

"Sam!" Strider said as he knelt beside the sandy-haired hobbit and roused him with a sense of urgency.

"Strider?" a sleepy Sam greeted him, using his hand to shield his eyes from the morning sunlight that was beginning to invade the entrance to the cave.

"Have you seen Frodo this morning?" Strider asked. 

This question made Sam wipe away any lingering effects of tiredness and look about the cave as the Ranger had done, in search of his master.   "He was here last night, you saw me lay him down over there," he said, and indicated with a finger. 

"Yes, I know, but I fear that he has gone off walking on his own.   How long ago I cannot tell.    I have enough faith in Frodo that he would not abandon us without reason.   However, these forests are no place for a hobbit unfamiliar with their dangers," Strider explained.

"Where could he have gone?" Sam asked as he scouted the cave and nearby area with his eyes.   He was beginning to grow more concerned by the minute, wanting to immediately set out and search for his missing master.

The Ranger didn't ignore Sam's question altogether, but became more interested in studying the footprints on the muddy ground.   Some of them were from where they had approached the cave the night before, and were now partially erased by the overnight storm.

It was difficult to decipher which of the tracks belonged to Frodo and then which of those he would find the most useful.     It was only by careful examination and years of tracking experience that he came to a decision of which direction Frodo was more likely to have taken away from the cave.  

"Frodo walked off in this direction," Strider informed Sam, pointing to the tracks that had lead him to that choice and hoping to begin to show the hobbit some basic tracking skills.   "By looking at the distance between each print, I am able to surmise that Frodo was walking, and not running when he left the safety of the cave.   That leads to a further, more hopeful assumption that he left on his own accord and was not pursued by someone or something," he further explained.

Sam nodded his head in acknowledgement, grateful for the Ranger being so patient and descriptive, but he swallowed the knot of fear in his throat when Strider said Frodo had not been chased away from the cave.    

Strider walked at a much slower pace to enable Sam to keep up.   He already had one missing hobbit; he certainly didn't want two.    They had managed to travel only a few hundred metres from the safety of the caves when they halted their progress.    A cry of pain now echoed through the canopy of the trees.

Sam looked up at the Ranger with a stricken expression on his face, both of them already having come to the conclusion that Frodo had been the one to cry out.   Automatically both the human and the hobbit quickened their footsteps towards where the cry had come from.  What scared them the most was that there were no further cries.    All was silent within the forest.

The pair now guessed that they were roughly in the vicinity where the cry could have come from, but looking around, they could not immediately locate Frodo or any sign that he had passed in this direction.    The leaves on the forest floor had made it impossible to see any further tracks that might have been left as clues.

Sam was the first to see what looked to be a hole in the earth.   They were still quite a few metres away from the rim, but he thought it odd that such an excavation should exist in the middle of a forest.   

Strider realised a second too late that the hole was actually a trap meant for animals.  Sam had begun taking a few cautious steps towards it, but was suddenly pulled back by the sleeve of his shirt.

"Wait Sam!" Strider warned.   "The lip may not be entirely safe and could further collapse around you if you should put any added weight to the loosened soil."

Being a lot taller than the hobbit, Strider's eye line enabled him to see a few feet down the wall of the pit.  He couldn't see the bottom or the entire wall, but noted some of the severed roots of trees protruding from the earth.

Strider was about to say something further to Sam, when something in the hole caught his attention.   From the angle of his vision, he couldn't immediately see Frodo, but a fresh gusty breeze blew over the top of the man-made hole, allowing the edges of a billowing cloak to be seen.

"Oh, no," Strider whispered in alarm, already fearing what the cloak meant.   He

had almost forgotten that Sam was standing beside him.   "Frodo!" he said to himself and then looked down at the sandy-haired hobbit.  

"You mean Frodo is down there?" Sam said, barely getting the sentence out when he ripped away from the Ranger's grip.    Thinking a little beforehand, Sam now lay down face first over the ground, still obeying the Ranger's warning about the earth around the edge of the hole collapsing under too much weight.   

Sam crawled on his belly towards the edge of the hole, far enough to gaze down at the bottom.    He gasped out loud at seeing his master.    "Frodo?" he called out,

hoping that his calling out would awaken the dark-haired hobbit.   There was no response.

Strider had looked a little more intently at the hole itself and deemed it to be reasonably shallow.   Thankfully that was something in his and Frodo's favour.  He was worried, however, by the lack of response from Frodo, not hearing any sounds to Sam's pleas.

"I am going down there; I need you to stay up here, Sam.   If Frodo is hurt, you

will be of much more use here," Strider explained, though he knew that there was 

something wrong for Frodo not to answer.

Putting his feet carefully as he dared on the soil at the top of the hole, Strider prepared to go down to the injured hobbit.      The overnight rain had weakened the rim considerably, but thankfully the soil was a dark clay consistency, enabling it to bear his weight.

With a slight grunt, he jumped down into the hole, making a splash in the ever increasing mud puddle at the bottom.   He knelt down in front of Frodo and tried to assess his condition, ignoring the mud on his own boots and cloak.

"Frodo?" Strider whispered, not so loudly as to startle the hobbit if he was merely asleep from exhaustion.    He reached up with his hand and removed the leaf from Frodo's cheek, noting with a grimace how cold it felt.   The hobbit's face was much to pale.

As gently as he could, Strider went about feeling down Frodo's limbs for any sign of broken bones.  He began with Frodo's arms, with the hobbit barely acknowledging the Ranger's probing through his wet clothes.

Strider noted the small amount of blood running down the side of Frodo's face and could see the small cut amongst the dark curls as the cause.    He gently felt the area for swelling, bringing Frodo a little closer to consciousness with the sudden jab of pain that developed.

The Ranger then felt down Frodo's legs.  He was almost ready to sigh in relief that the head wound appeared to be the worst of Frodo's injuries, when he saw the hobbit's ankle.  His face turned grim, enough even for Sam to note the change.  His fingers reached out nervously to touch the already swollen and bruised ankle.

Strider's fingertips had barely brushed the surface of the skin, when Frodo came back awake with a hiss of pain and his hands reaching to stop whatever was touching his ankle.  His hands were gently restrained by the man.

  
"Frodo?" Strider said softly, noting the hobbit's slightly disorientated stare back at him.   He noted with dismay how cold and wet Frodo was.    He was soaked to the skin and now that he had returned to semi-consciousness, he was beginning to shiver from the cold.

Strider wrapped his arms around the hobbit, firstly to try and stem the cold and shivering from Frodo, but also to lift the hobbit from his muddy prison.   He had to get Frodo near a fire as soon as possible and warm him and then tend to his ankle and head injury.

Some form of recognition began to seep into Frodo's mind as he looked up at the person lifting him.   "S-Strider……..," he managed to get out, barely audible.   His head sagging against the man's shoulder as the pain assaulted his ankle once more.    He chewed his bottom lip to stop from crying out, but was unable to hide a whimper from the pain into the man's tunic.

"Shhhh, don't talk, just rest," Strider said firmly, adjusting the position of the hobbit from his chest to almost over his shoulder.    "I will take care of you, Frodo."

The sudden shift in position made Frodo dizzy and the sensation hit him with staggering force.   Frodo found himself unable to voice any protest against being carried in this awkward manner, as his senses turned grey at the edges and became clouded.  

Strider had barely begun moving the hobbit to free his arm for climbing back out of the hole, when he felt Frodo go limp in his grasp.   He decided not to ponder on whether this was to his advantage or not and quickly made it back out of the hole.

Sam gasped out loud as he saw the limp form of his master over Strider's shoulder.   "He's so pale and cold," he said, feeling Frodo's cheek with the back of his hand.

"Go on ahead of me, Sam," Strider instructed.  "I will need hot water and bandages that are located in my pack.    We will need to get a fire going as soon as possible to warm Frodo and some dry clothes as he is soaked through to the skin.   Hurry, Sam!"

Whilst Sam was loathe to leave his master, he heeded Strider's words and knew that by carrying out these tasks, he would be aiding Frodo more than by staying there.  He made his way back along the path they had come, scarcely giving a thought that he had travelled the path only once before.   

When Strider arrived back at the cave carrying the unconscious hobbit, Sam was completely immersed in his duty of breaking up small twigs and getting ready to light a fire.   Once the fire began to burn nicely, he filled his larger pot with fresh water and placed it near the flames to begin boiling it.

Sam had spread out the blankets that Frodo had slept on, and that was where Strider now very gently lay Frodo.   He placed a supportive hand to the back of Frodo's head, not wanting any further jostling of his head injury.    Frodo mumbled a little, beginning to regain consciousness once again.

Sam turned to tend the fire and water again, but Strider spoke first:  "It might be easier if you were to help Frodo change into some drier clothes while I watch over the water.  I will need to add a few herbs to it before I take a good look at his ankle.    I am sure he will be somewhat more co-operative with your help."

The stout, sandy-haired hobbit nodded his head in agreement.   A soft moan came from the blankets, indicating that Frodo was becoming more alert.   Sam knelt beside his master, placing a gentle restraining hand on his master's shoulder as Frodo tried to pull himself into a sitting position.    

Frodo found that he had very little strength to do this anyway, without assistance, and was unable to get any further than resting on his elbows.   The pain in his ankle seemed to reignite with his movement and awareness.    He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to block out the deep throb that encircled his foot.

"You just rest easy now, Mr Frodo," Sam whispered.   "Strider and I will help you.   Don't you go hurting yourself any further," he added.

"How long was I gone, Sam?" Frodo asked, trying to bridge the time gap in his mind from when he remembered leaving the cave and falling until this moment.

"Only a little while, Mr Frodo," Sam informed him.   "Strider noticed you were gone and we only walked a little way before we heard you cry out in pain."

Frodo nodded in response, not willing to use his voice whilst he was shivering to avoid worrying Sam further.    He was about to pull one of the blankets around him to try and stem the cold in his limbs, but was prevented from doing so.

"Let's get you into some warm clothes, Mr Frodo," Sam said.   "You will feel better for getting out of them wet clothes.   Strider has got the fire going nice and hot there and you should be feeling warmer very soon."

Sam took a spare set of clothes out of Frodo's pack.    Frodo had four sets altogether, three in the pack from which Sam selected the dry ones and the still wet and cold ones he wore.     "You change into these, Mr Frodo, and I will get those up on a line and drying in no time."

Frodo hated the idea of stripping the wet clothes from his body, the shivering taking much of his energy and with the constant pain in his ankle as a remainder.     With a grimace and a moan of pain as he gingerly shifted his feet, he complied with Sam's request.

By now, Strider had prepared a hot drink for Frodo, mixing in a few leaves of a plant to help with the pain.    He moved towards the injured hobbit, and had to force back a laugh at the scene before him.    Frodo had indeed tried his best to dress himself.  He had managed to remove the wet clothes and had started putting on the dry ones.   

Halfway through this, Frodo must have run out of momentum Strider surmised.   The pants were on and the shirt was over his head and his arms were through the sleeves.   The buttons, however, must have given him more of a challenge and were done up incorrectly.

Frodo was now seated on one of the blankets, with another wrapped around him as tight as he could manage to combat the shivering and cold.    The hobbit leaned his head back against the rock wall with his eyes closed, trying to concentrate on the pain in his foot that was ever increasing.

Sam returned from tending to his master's wet clothes.  He saw Frodo's shirt and the dishevelled look and, without commenting, redid the shirt buttons in the correct order and wrapped the blanket around his friend tighter still.

"Frodo, I need you to try and drink as much of this as you are able to," Strider said.  It took a few moments for the tired lad to drag his eyes open.   He focused his blue eyes on the steaming cup, not really interested in what was in it.    Strider was hoping that the hot liquid would help ward off the cold Frodo was suffering from.

When he seemed alert enough, Strider handed Frodo the steaming cup, encouraging him again to drink as much as possible.    Whilst Sam kept a close eye on his master's drinking, the Ranger turned his attention to Frodo's injured ankle.

Strider brushed his fingertips light across the skin as he had done earlier.   Once again, Frodo hissed in pain, coughing on a mouthful of tea.    He looked down at the area and noted the bad discolouration and swelling.

Sam put a comforting hand on Frodo's shoulder whilst Strider continued his examination.   He apologized for causing the hobbit pain, but it was unavoidable.  He needed to ascertain the seriousness of the injury as a precautionary measure before deeming the best solution in treating it.

"Will I be able to walk on it?" Frodo asked, the hot tea doing much to improve his alertness.    Part of him still wondered if they were being pursued by the black, hooded creatures that had appeared to him at Bag End.    If this was the case, they would not be able to delay their journey to Bree for very long.

Strider guessed that Frodo would be more concerned about carrying out the task he had appointed himself and about keeping Sam safe than about his own well-being. 

"We need to get that swelling down before that assessment can be made," Strider answered.    "I am afraid the best method of doing that is to soak your foot in water.   Cold water.   Tepid or warm water would also work, but unfortunately at a much slower rate."

Frodo gulped at little at this revelation.   His body was already suffering from the effects of laying in sodden clothes for hours and the shivering had merely slowed in the presence of the fire, not dissipated entirely.

"Is there not any other way, Mr Strider?" Sam asked on his master's behalf.    He did not wish to see his master subjected to any further cold. 

"I am afraid there is not, Sam," Strider replied.   "However, I will try and counteract the cold sensation in your foot as best as I can.   I will heat a blanket by the fire and use it as a shield over your legs to prevent the cold invading further parts of your body."

"What do we do after that?" Frodo asked, trying to be optimistic despite the situation he found himself in.   He was cold and shivering and his leg was injured.  They had only just left the Shire, headed in the direction of Bree to meet with Gandalf.   

"You, Master Baggins, will rest for a few hours," Strider said sternly, not allowing any room for compromise or negotiation.  "If the swelling has decreased enough, then I believe I can wrap the ankle tightly enough to support it and prevent further injury."

"Will there still be pain for Mr Frodo?" Sam asked, worried about his master walking around on his ankle.    They had very little choice at the moment.   In all likelihood, Frodo would refuse any notion of being carried by Strider for any length of time.

"I am afraid there is bound to be some discomfort, Samwise, that is unavoidable,"

Strider commented.   "If the ankle is supported enough and perhaps with the aid of a good walking stick, the pain will be less noticeable and the ache will only increase if Frodo remains on his feet for too long a stretch."

"That will slow us down considerably, Strider," Frodo said in a deflated voice, knowing that he was the cause.   "I do not want to be a burden," he added, focusing his gaze towards the floor of the cave as he spoke the words.

Strider gently lifted Frodo's chin with two fingers, making sure that there was sufficient emphasis placed on his reply.    "You are _not _a burden, Frodo."    Sam nodded furiously to support the Ranger, saddened that his master felt this way.

"It was inevitable that there would be delays upon our journey, Frodo.    Exactly when or where they would chose to happen is beyond you, Sam and myself.    Whether it be now or somewhere further down the trail, there will no doubt be times when our journey takes us down unfamiliar paths.    On some days the miles may pass by quicker than on others.    That all remains yet to be seen," Strider continued.

"You cannot help it if there be a hole under your feet, Mr Frodo," Sam said, wagering into the conversation and trying to displace any of his master's fears that his injury was anything else but pure bad luck.     He wanted to add that he thought it irresponsible that men should choose the forest to set such traps when Shire folk lived so close by, but erred on the side of caution and refrained from uttering his thoughts to Frodo.

"Sam, please fetch me one of your larger pans, and pour some fresh, cold water into it.   Frodo, I want you to eat as much breakfast as you are able while your foot soaks and the swelling begins to go down," Strider said.

By the time Sam returned to Frodo with a mug of warm broth in his hand, his master could scarcely keep his eyes open.    The hobbit's foot was submerged in the cool water, but it was yet to be seen if the treatment was to be effective.   Frodo was of the belief that it would prove of little use as the pain was still present.     

The heated blanket over his legs had done much to disperse any cold from the water and, with the fire burning low, Frodo was beginning to feel drowsy.    He had sipped at the broth Sam had offered, and was grateful for the added warmth it provided to his stomach and hands.

The mug was three quarters empty when Frodo's eyes drifted closed.   The pain had dulled to an ache, partially as a result from the herbs in the drink he had had earlier, and from the cold water numbing his ankle.

Strider once again examined Frodo's ankle carefully, noting that the swelling was no worse.   The discolouration around the skin gave him an idea of how much pain Frodo was experiencing.    He hoped that at least his sleep would be restful.

Sam adjusted the blankets around Frodo's shoulder and then sat back and watched him sleep.   The sandy-haired hobbit then folded the fine grey cloak that Frodo had given to him on his birthday and used it as a pillow behind his friend's head.

When presenting the cloak, Frodo had told him to think of it as a symbol of their 

friendship. _  'Each time you put it around your shoulders; I hope you think as if it were my arms supporting you, sheltering and shielding you and keep you warm on whatever journeys life may have in store for you.'_

"I promise to shelter, shield and keep you warm, Mr Frodo, no matter what our

journey may have in store for you," Sam whispered softly, brushing a few dark, unruly curls in affection.

For now, that was all Sam and the Ranger could do to help their friend.   Sam supplied a mug of hot broth for both himself and Strider, knowing that they too had to eat on the journey.

"You might as well gain a few hours extra sleep with your master, Sam," Strider suggested.   Seeing the hobbit was about to protest, he quickly added, "All we can do is let him rest and wait.   I will wake you if I need you.   For the moment I need you well rested too.  Frodo is most likely going to need both of us to help him if he is able to walk upon that ankle later today."

Sam reluctantly lay his bedroll down directly beside his master.   Before closing his eyes, he took Frodo's slim hand in his own, knowing that he would feel the slightest movement from the dark-haired hobbit should he wake or cry out in pain.

Strider admired the strong bond that Sam showed.   He knew that Frodo was in good hands so long as they remained together.    The Ranger watched over the two hobbits as they slept side by side.    

Smoke curled away from his long handled pipe as he sat near the entrance to the cave and reflected on various events that had happened over the past few days.    Inwardly, he felt troubled about what else lay ahead on their journey.   He vowed to himself that Frodo and Sam would remain safe.

The time was now approximately noon, and the sun was shining brightly and high in the blue sky outside the cave.

Sam had awoken about an hour earlier, a little concerned that Frodo was still asleep beside him.  Strider reassured him that it was perfectly natural considering the harrowing few hours that Frodo had spent on his own in the muddy pit.    

A fresh pot of water had been set near the fire to boil for tea when Frodo showed the first signs of waking.    He noted that his foot was no longer soaking in cold water and felt dry and warmer than he had when falling asleep. 

Strider knelt beside Frodo, allowing him to wake in his own time.   He placed the back of his hand to Frodo's brow and was relieved to find the skin warm to the touch.     Thankfully the hobbit had regained much of the colour he had lost and his breathing didn't sound impeded or scratchy.

Frodo pulled himself into a sitting position and took stock of the aches that still troubled him.    His headache was completely gone and the wound on his scalp was now only tender to the touch.   

"How do you feel, Frodo?" Strider asked, hoping for a candid answer.

"My head feels a lot clearer," he voiced.    He looked down at his ankle and noted that the entire ankle was now black with bruising.   Very gingerly, he tried to move it to see how much mobility he would be allowed.   The swelling had decreased considerably.

"It feels very stiff," Frodo admitted.   "The ache is still there but not the sharp pain that was there before," he informed the Ranger.

"I will pad the ankle and then wrap both it and your foot tightly and then you may try and see if it will bear your weight sufficiently to walk.    If you are in any doubt, please tell me now.    If you are not comfortable with walking on it for the moment, we will camp here for another night and proceed in the morning," Strider said, giving the list of alternatives.  
  


"I am willing to at least give it a try once you have wrapped it, Strider," Frodo said, trying to sound as confident as he could.  

"All right, then, Sam, please get me some of the thicker bandages from my pack.

You will also find some thicker wads of fabric that I can use to pad the ankle with first," Strider requested.

The Ranger accepted the bundle of padding and bandages from Sam.   Both hobbits now watched intently as Strider worked quietly and carefully to wrap Frodo's ankle.    Somehow it seemed better just to watch and learn rather than ask questions.   After a while, Frodo and Sam found that Strider usually explained his methods and procedures as he worked.

On a couple of occasions, Frodo had to bite down on his lip to keep from crying out when it felt like the bandaging was becoming too tight.    Once completed, Strider encouraged him to flex the ankle as much as he was able to, giving Frodo a small amount of relief from the tension, but still allowing enough support and stability to the limb.

Frodo moved it, and was a little scared at how much pain was still present when he did so.    He found that if he was careful and used some basic breathing techniques, he was able to cope with the pain a lot better.

"Now comes the real test, Frodo," Strider remarked as he stood up, ready to assist the hobbit into a standing position.  "Are you certain you are ready to do this?"

"Y-yes," Frodo said although it came with a little hesitation in his voice.  He was about to use both arms to brace himself against the rock wall of the cave, but instead found strength and support on both sides from Strider and Sam.

Frodo was now standing on his good leg, hoping on a couple of occasions to keep his balance.   

"Do not put all of your weight on your injured ankle, Frodo," Strider warned.  "Place your foot down gently on the ground and use the ball of your foot and toes to do most of the work.   Try not to put any added stress on the heel of your foot at all."

Frodo nodded that he understood and took a deep breath in readiness.    Doing as the Ranger advised, he very carefully and slowly allowed his injured foot to touch the floor of the cave, gripping a little tighter on Sam's arm as he did so.

He held that breath in for a considerably long time until he let it out slowly again, allowing his body to feel.    To his surprise and relief there was no sharp pain running up the length of his leg as the skin on the ball of his foot made contact with the rock.

Frodo waited a few more seconds before he voiced how the foot truly felt.    "It still feels very tight, Strider, but standing upright has released a little of the pressure.   The padding seems very soft, but at the same time holding firm, and is helping a lot."

"I am pleased to hear you say that, Frodo," the Ranger commented, reaching down to make a closer inspection of the bandaged ankle.   "Are you sure that the discomfort is minimal?"

"Yes, I am surprised how much the padding seems to be absorbing what pain there is.    It is still aching a little, but it is bearable for now," Frodo replied honestly.

"There isn't much sense in delaying any further," Strider advised.  "The packs are 

ready are they not, Sam?"

"Yes, sir, Mr Strider," Sam answered.  "I made sure they were ready while Mr Frodo was sleeping."

"No doubt our progress will be hampered for what remains of the afternoon, but to make the trip a little easier on your ankle, Frodo," Strider said as he reached for an object leaning against the cave wall, "I selected this for you."   He handed the hobbit a walking stick.

The walking staff reached about shoulder height on Frodo.   The wood was smooth and Strider had been careful enough to select a species of tree where the wood would not splinter so easily in one's hand.

Frodo tried it out, changing it from hand to hand, making sure that it felt comfortable in his grip.    "It certainly looks sturdy enough.  Thank you, Strider."

"You are welcome, Frodo," Strider replied.   The Ranger now picked up Frodo's backpack and helped him sit it on his back, ready to set out.    He shouldered his own belongings and made sure that their meagre fire was extinguished.

Sam put his own heavy pack on his back, looking over to Frodo as his master adjusted the straps.   "I could carry yours for you if you like, Mr Frodo," he offered. 

"No thank you, Sam," Frodo replied.   "I am quite alright and you have enough to carry without adding to it.   We have only just begun this journey and I must bear some of the burden."

Strider could see that Sam was concerned for his master and decided to cater to both hobbits.   Frodo, on the one hand, had a strong independent streak in him that caused him not to allow others to help as much as they would like to.    Sam, on the other hand, only wanted to help Frodo and keep him safe.

"Frodo, I want you and Sam to walk in front.    I will make sure that our trail is not being followed," Strider said.    This arrangement did two things.   It gave Frodo his little bit of independence to walk unassisted except for the staff.   It also gave Strider a chance to watch from behind if Frodo tired too soon or seemed to be in pain.    Though, Sam would be close enough to aid his master should his step falter.

And so it began that the three travellers started out on their second day away from the Shire.      The sun was still shining in the sky and the air was clean and fragrant from the trees.  The walk was very pleasant indeed and no shadows impeded their progress.

After an hour, Frodo had to resign to the fact that his foot was beginning to ache and he needed a brief break.    They stopped for approximately thirty minutes and Strider checked the bandaging and made sure that it had not come loose.     With a cool drink of refreshing water and an apple in hand, they set off once again, determined to use as much of the fading daylight as possible.

After another three hours of walking, the decision was made to make camp for the night.  Frodo had been managing quite well with the walking staff up until now, but now he found he could no longer mask the soft groans as his ankle began to ache dreadfully.

Strider was quite pleased that they had travelled a little further than he had imagined they would.   Partially due to the fact that Frodo had been too stubborn to admit hurting, he assumed, but said nothing.     

While Sam prepared supper over a fire, Strider took a fresh pan of water and soaked Frodo's ankle once again in cold water.   The swelling was not as noticeable as before, but he could tell by the pinched expression on the hobbit's face that the ankle was hurting.

Frodo had sat down, resting his back against the smooth trunk of a tree and closing his eyes briefly while his foot remained submerged in the water.

Tonight they would have to sleep out in the open forest, not being afforded the luxury of a sheltered cave in this part of the woods.   The man and the two hobbits ate quietly, noting how still the forest was at night.   The silence was only penetrated by the hoot of an owl.

After eating supper, they each took out their pipes and reclined back with their faces pointed towards the sky, enjoying the display of endless stars generously sprinkled across an ebony blanket.

"I wonder if Bilbo is looking up at these same stars as us tonight, Sam," Frodo said in a soft voice.      

"No doubt he is, Mr Frodo.  They probably just don't look as clear as they are here tonight," Sam responded.    He felt saddened by his friend's loss and grief knowing that being out here in a strange forest, far from home, Frodo would feel even further away from Bilbo.

"You two get some sleep, I will keep watch tonight," Strider said, settling himself down in a position to be able to guard the smaller folk.

"Won't you need some sleep too, Mr Strider?" Sam asked in concern, knowing that the Ranger had already been awake a good deal more than he and Frodo.   

"I do not need as much rest as you do, Sam," Strider explained.  "I have spent many years roaming forests such as this at night.   My body has become accustomed to needing less sleep."

Frodo had lain out his bedroll close to the fire, feeling a cool breeze begin to blow through the canopy of the trees.    His eyes were weary and his body tired.   He laid his head on his folded cloak and pulled a blanket around his slim shoulders.

"Good night, Strider," Frodo said, feeling the warmth of the fire down his back which was making him even sleepier.

"Good night, Sam," Frodo whispered, before drifting off into a dreamless sleep.

"Good night, Mr Frodo," Sam returned, making sure that his master was asleep before tending to his own comfort.   "Good night to you as well, Mr Strider."

"Sleep well, Frodo and Sam," Strider said, noting the calm features of the hobbits,

and placing another small log on the fire to burn slowly throughout the night.

**************************************************************

Upon waking early the next morning, all partook in eating a cold breakfast before

getting ready to set out on yet another long day of walking.    The fire had died

down to ashes during the night and they deemed it more cautious not to reignite

the flames.

"How is your ankle this morning, Frodo?" Sam asked as he packed away the last

of the cleaned dishes, in anticipation of moving again soon.

"A little stiff again, Sam," Frodo voiced.   "The walking should soon help it, though," he added.    The bruising was now stark in contrast to the surrounding pale skin of Frodo's foot.   No doubt, in a couple of days time, with care taken, the bruising would begin to change to greenish, yellow tones, indicating that the ankle was healing.

Frodo took a firm grip on his walking staff and prepared to set out on their journey towards Bree.    They had only travelled a short time when they were surprised how quickly and how much the terrain and landscape were changing.

Instead of the closed in dense forest, they now came to walk in open plains carpeted in long grass.  The grass was so tall that the hobbits took joy in running their hands through it as they walked, spreading the plentiful seeds of the fragrant grasses upon the gentle breeze.

It was not just in a visual sense that they noticed the changes, but they noticed changes in everything around them.   There was a different scent to the air they were breathing.   There light changed a dozen shades of hues within only half an hour, sometimes darker, being other times paler.

Strider was mindful of Frodo's ankle and made sure that they stopped and rested 

regularly.    On the second day, at about lunch time, they were most grateful to come across a small stream, bordered by some large boulders.     The water cascaded down the faces, keeping the stream running and crystal clear.   

Frodo was pleasantly surprised at the temperature of the water.   It was cool, not cold, and the sound of the small waterfalls made him feel relaxed.    He gently removed the bandage from around his ankle whilst Sam was busy preparing a lunch of fruit and bread.

Sighing, he allowed his feet to be massaged by the rippling motion of the water.   The coolness was doing much to relieve any lingering ache that was present after much walking.  Frodo invited Sam and the Ranger to come and join him in the soothing water.   

Strider obliged and agreed with the hobbit on how good the water felt on his bare feet.  Sam however, flatly refused, telling his master that hobbits like him and water didn't associate well with each other.

"My Gaffer always said that water and Gamgees don't mix, except maybe in the garden, Mr Frodo," Sam stated.    "And I am not one for doubting what my old Gaffer says."

Frodo was respectful of Sam's wishes, even if he did think that Sam believed too much in the teachings of the Old Gaffer and not in following what his own heart told him.

Late in the afternoon, as they continued across the grassy expanse, when the sun was just beginning to set, something was about to happen that would always stick in Strider's mind.     

This afternoon's event would go a long way to proving to the Ranger just how much that unselfishness and friendship was reciprocated from Frodo.   Given a different set of circumstances and other surroundings, it could have gone completely unnoticed.

He had been acutely aware of the friendship that was shared between Frodo and Sam.   He had been witness to the unselfish acts of Sam on numerous occasions as he fussed about his master, making sure everything was taken care of and just so.    

Frodo had been walking in front of Sam and the Ranger, happy enough just to be drinking in the last few hours of fading sunlight.    His spirits were good from the walking and he seemed to lose himself in his own thoughts.   He was a few metres in front of Strider.    

At first, Frodo didn't seem to notice that Sam had fallen back a little and was now behind Strider as well.    Sam had now stopped walking altogether, pausing as if negotiating whether to go forward or not.    It didn't seem like a hard decision to Strider, but the expression on the stout hobbit's face spoke otherwise.

"Well, this is it," Sam said, sounding as though he was talking to himself, rather than to his companions.

Frodo had heard the comment and now stopped walking, turning to face his friend.    Strider was about to ask Sam if he had suddenly changed his mind about following his master, but Frodo spoke first.    

_"This is what, Sam?"_ Frodo asked gently, a curious look on his face.

_"If I take one more step, it will be the furthest from home I have ever been, Mr Frodo_," Sam voiced.  

Frodo wasn't about to let his friend fall into sadness about having to leave the Shire.    Of course he knew that Sam had never really wanted to travel further than his homeland.

Frodo put one arm around Sam's shoulder, "I haven't been this way much myself, but I promise you, wherever we go, it will be together and one step at a time."

Sam looked up trustingly at Frodo and smiled, "You don't need to be worrying about me Mr Frodo.    Takes a lot to deter a Gamgee when he sets his mind to something."

"I am glad to hear it, Sam," Frodo responded, but still kept a reassuring arm around his friend's shoulder for a few more moments.

Strider was aware that he had just been witness to something quite remarkable.   These two hobbits were being lead out here into strange and unfamiliar surroundings.   Yet, for all their fears and insecurities about the journey itself and where it would end, Frodo and Sam had no such doubts about each others loyalty and love.

Since they had walked quite a distance further this day, the Ranger declared that they would stop earlier that afternoon than they had previous day.   This would allow Sam to cook a more substantial and filling meal and allow Frodo to rest his ankle a little more.

Sam had been most pleased about being able to use his cooking skills and the pans tied to his backpack.     It also gave the sandy-haired hobbit a chance to entice his master's taste buds with a few little spices that he had stolen away in his possessions.   

Not much, a little salt, a little seasoning and some dried herbs from his own garden.  Just enough to plump out the stew a little more and give it some texture and make the meal more palatable.  

Aragorn took on the responsibility of gathering enough wood to stoke the fire during the night, whilst Sam knelt over a small skillet over the flames.   Frodo was content enough to sit back in the sagging branches of a nearby tree and rest after such a long day of walking.     

Frodo was enjoying the gentle breeze on his face and he had been deep in thoughts about some of the things that had happened over the last few days.    Sam looked up at his master and couldn't help but smile at the relaxed, older hobbit.    

Just as he was in danger of falling asleep before supper, a chorus of voices reached Frodo's ears.    He stayed perfectly still for a few seconds, and then the chorus rang out clearer and closer.    At first there were many voices, and then they combined from a choir into one single note that echoed beauty and light through the trees.

"Strider!" Frodo said with delight written all over his face as he sat up and listened.

The Ranger smiled, realising along with the hobbit, who it was making such a beautiful lamented song.   "Go on, so long as you are careful," Strider said to Frodo's unspoken question.    He could not in good conscience deny him such an opportunity that gave him a few fleeting moments of sheer joy and a chance to forget the reason for their journey.

"Hurry slowly, Frodo.   Be mindful of your ankle as it has yet to heal properly," Strider said, happy to see the dark-haired hobbit smiling and bursting with anticipation.

"Don't worry, Sam, I will see that supper is cooked and ready for you when you return," seeing the look on the younger hobbit's face.

"Come on, Sam," Frodo said, urging his friend to go with him quickly.  "You are about to see a most wondrous sight.   Not too many hobbits from the Shire ever get to see Wood-Elves, except, perhaps, for Uncle Bilbo."

"_Elves!_  You mean as in the Fair Folk,Mr Frodo?" Sam said, barely able to contain his excitement.   He had told everyone in the Shire that he hoped to meet an Elf one day.   Master Bilbo had told countless stories about their ways and culture.  

Sam had never counted on actually seeing one for real.   It had been just a secret, a burning desire he had held onto, like wanting to be a mighty wizard fighting dragons and other mythical creatures in tales and songs.

"Yes, dear Sam, you will finally get to see an Elf.    We are most fortunate to come across Elves this close to the Shire," Frodo answered.

Frodo and Sam made their way quietly and as quickly as Frodo's ankle allowed them,   through the grass and into area coveted with a small number of trees.    A large fallen tree trunk became a suitable vantage point for observing these ethereal people without disturbing them.

The two hobbits lay down, partially peering out over the fallen log and watching the procession of elves and their horses some distance away.   The voices still chorused together but the songs and melody sounded sadder, if not mournful.

"Where are they going, Mr Frodo?" Sam asked, noting how his friend's jubilance had soon waned and had been replaced by a sense of sadness upon seeing the Elves.   

"They are heading to the White Towers beyond the harbour, Sam.     Leaving Middle-earth.   Headed for the Grey Havens, never to return," Frodo said, his voice quiet, barely above a whisper.

Sam and Frodo made their way back to the campsite, mindful that Strider would soon come looking for them if they delayed further.     The meal was ready and piping hot and it was shared by the three.

Frodo would not speak to Strider of what he had seen when they had arrived back.   He seemed lost in his own thoughts as he slowly ate, his eyes often glancing back to the tree line and pondering.

The Ranger was soon told, in a most animated way, of Sam's first sighting of an Elf.   Sam's hazel eyes had shone with awe and utter amazement at these people who moved about so gracefully.    The Elvish horses were a sight to behold all of their own, Sam informed Strider, unaware of the Ranger's background or knowledge of such things.

Sam had whispered to Strider about Mr Frodo seeming quite sad upon seeing the Elves leaving Middle-earth.    The Ranger couldn't deny that such a sight would have made him feel just as grievous as Frodo, but chose not to relay that sentiment to Sam this night.

The remainder of the evening was quiet as Aragorn sat beside the meagre fire that Sam had used to cook supper.  The meal itself was very satisfying and the Ranger couldn't help but marvel that the stout hobbit was able to make such a delicious stew from very few ingredients.

For a while Frodo and Aragorn talked softly just to enjoy the night and gaze into the flickering flames.    Frodo had offered to help Sam with clearing away the dishes and the pots, but Sam would have none of it and had shooed his master back to just sitting by the fire and relaxing instead.

By the time Sam had finished with the dishes and pots, Frodo was laying down.  The conversation between himself and Strider had gone quiet.    Aragorn smiled

with slight amusement as he watched Frodo become drowsy.   The hobbit had laid

his curly dark head down on his folded cloak and was steadily on his way to sleep.

Sam sat down by the fire and watched his master for a few minutes, noting that

Frodo was trying to fight off falling asleep.    Frodo's eyelids fluttered closed a few times before opening again only to have them drooping again a few seconds later.

Before long the battle was lost, and this time when Frodo's eyes closed they remained so, his breathing evening out and his face relaxing into slumber.   There were no lines of fatigue or weariness even though they had travelled a little over two days from Bag End.

Aragorn noted how content Frodo looked poised in sleep.  His face looked almost

untouched, framed by the dark locks that fell over his forehead.   He knew that the young hobbit was still trying to deal with his feelings over Bilbo's sudden departure and everything else that had happened so far.

To his credit, Frodo was good at masking how he was feeling to an extent.  Strider

found himself still trying to work him out at times, wondering what was going on

behind those bright blue eyes.  He forced himself to look for signs of over-tiredness, hunger or injury in his companions and see through the smiles offered in response to his questioning gazes.   

Frodo didn't fool Sam, though, and there had been two occasions where the stout

hobbit had seen his master try and hide a silent tear from them as they continued out of the Shire.    Sam had been there to offer a few words of sympathy and support, without embarrassing Frodo in front of the Ranger.     

Sam waited until he knew Frodo was asleep properly and then got to his feet and took a blanket out of his master's pack.  He then went about tucking it in around his sleeping friend, making sure that Frodo wouldn't catch a chill during the night.

Aragorn watched the fussing that Sam seemed to enjoy laying on his master.    With Sam it was unending, too.   Already on this trip the Ranger had noted that Sam was always looking out for Frodo and checking on him, seeing if he needed anything and asking how he was feeling. 

There had been few occasions where he had seen such a display of loyalty and friendship between two individuals.  Frodo never stirred during Sam's administrations, but sighed contentedly as he burrowed into the warmth of the offered blanket. 

Sam went back to the fire and saw the amused but curious look on the Ranger's face about what he had just seen him do for Frodo.

"I don't mean to pry, Master Gamgee, but I must admire your friendship to Frodo," Strider commented.

Sam felt himself blush a little at the man's praise.   "I do it all the time for Mr Frodo," he replied, offering a brief explanation.

"I know you do, and I am sure that Frodo appreciates it, even if he doesn't always say so verbally.   There is sometimes a smile that you share or a certain look in his eyes that indicates you and he connect on a different level than others do around you.   But would it be rude of me to ask why you do it?" the Ranger asked, truly interested.

Seeing it as a genuine curiosity and not a poke in fun at what he did, Sam was more than happy to share the real reason why he felt bound to look out for Frodo so much.

"I don't mind telling you, Mr Strider, knowing that Mr Frodo there is asleep and shouldn't hear my words should they be whispered," Sam began.   "I'd be guessing it would be easier to tell you about when we first met and then explain from there."

Aragorn nodded his head slightly, indicating that he would enjoy hearing how such a strong friendship had begun between the two hobbits.

"Well, it's like this, Mr Frodo lived at Brandy Hall after his parents passed away.

He had Mr Merry for company there, I believe, but things didn't always work out and he got sad and lonely a lot there.   Master Bilbo used to visit him often enough when he could and it was on one of these visits that it was decided that Mr Frodo would come and live back at Bag End.

I was there the day Master Bilbo brought my master home in his wagon.  Mr Frodo was happy enough to be there, but he was also a little bit afraid of his new surroundings, worried that he wouldn't fit in and all that."

"Did Frodo eventually feel like he was fitting in?" the Ranger asked.

"Some you might say, but he has always had to work hard to get the people in Hobbiton to accept him for who he is.   A lot of folk scoffed at Master Bilbo for making him heir to Bag End.   In addition to the Sackville-Bagginses I mean."

"Anyway, even with everyone talking behind his back and telling gossipy stories 

about his heritage before he came and the like, Mr Frodo has never had a mean bone in his body towards anyone of them." 

Aragorn definitely had to agree on this point.  The boy's manners were impeccable to say the least.     
  


"Mr Frodo is like no other hobbit I have ever met, Strider.   He is always worrying about others before himself.  Doing things when he isn't asked to, even if his social position dictates that he ought not."

"Shall you give me an example?" Strider enquired.

"Oh yes, and I be thinking of the very best one when I explain this one, Mr Strider," Sam said, still glancing towards his master's slumbering form as he spoke.  "I don't know if you could tell, me being a plain hobbit and all that, but there was  a time, not long after Mr Frodo came to Bag End, when I felt it hardly worth getting out of bed in the morning."

"Indeed, Sam, your carefree nature over the past week or so has me having a hard time believing such to be true," Strider responded with curiosity.  "I have seen your devotion and love for Frodo and your exuberance when talking about growing things in the garden.  What event could have shadowed your young life for you to have such dark thoughts?"

"I lost my mum," Sam said simply, unable to hide a small tear of sadness, even after all these years.   "It still hurts, deep in here, when I talk about her," he added, placing his hand over his heart.

"I am truly sorry, Sam.   I lost my father when I was very young, I do not remember him at all," Strider said, hoping to show the young hobbit that others shared his pain.  He placed a reassuring hand on Sam's shoulder and drew him in a little closer. 

"Oh, Mr Strider, I didn't mean to make you sad too," Sam said in apology, wiping the tears from his face.   He did not make any attempt to pull away from the Ranger's offer of kindness.

"That's alright, Sam, it was a long time ago, as I said.   Now, how did Frodo help you after your tragic loss?" Strider asked gently.

"Well, at first it was Master Bilbo, offering to help my Old Gaffer with the funeral arrangements and having someone come and help care for my brothers and sisters if that's what was needed.    He bought enough food for a month so as we wouldn't have to worry about going to the market and such," Sam explained.

"Sounds exactly what Bilbo would do," Strider remarked, having already heard that Bilbo would give generously to those he deemed deserving.

"My Old Gaffer missed mum for a long time afterwards.   Some days I even went to work in the gardens at Bag End on my own.   It's like he didn't want to go on without her.    My sisters were mainly responsible for bringing him out of his slump.    They took over the cooking duties at home and saw to the household chores that needed doing just so as he didn't have to worry about his clothes or feeding us."

"Did you have anybody to share your feelings with about your mother's passing, Sam?" Strider asked, knowing that hobbits would seek comfort in their families and friends at such a sad time.

"Well, seeing as how I was taking over from the Gaffer, I didn't really think about it.   The gardens kept me busy enough; there was still the watering and the weeding to do.   Master Bilbo and Mr Frodo told me that they understood if we needed to take time off, but gardening is what I have always done.     

Every day after my mum passed away, Mr Frodo would come out into the garden to see if I needed anything or wanted to talk.    Every single day.    It was getting so that I could tell when he was about to walk out of Bag End and come seek me out in the vegetable patch or the flower beds under Master Bilbo's study window."

"Mr Frodo even offered to help out with the watering and the weeding if I was needed back at home for the family.    Imagine, Mr Frodo, offering to get down on his hands and knees and pick the little weeds out between me taters!" Sam said with both mirth and genuine appreciation in his voice.

"Frodo has very slender hands, so he might be very good at something like that," Strider said in the sleeping hobbit's defence, not truly being able to picture Frodo gardening either.   "Though he would have been more worried about you than your garden I would assume, Sam."

Sam blushed a little at this observation, "I know.   That's why I told him best to leave the gardening to me and not get his good clothes all soiled and stained."

"After a few weeks had gone by, though, something changed in me.   I don't know if I was still grieving or not.   Mr Frodo didn't quite explain to me how long someone might take to get used to not seeing a loved one.    But I started to feel like my Old Gaffer and didn't want to go out of the house or even get out of bed in the morning to tend to the gardens anymore," Sam said, continuing the tale.

"Mr Frodo, he never gave up on me though.    When I didn't turn up at Bag End one day, he came to my home to see if everything was alright.     He came right into Bagshot Row with a basket full of food and kept company with me that whole day.    He didn't mind that he was not doing the things he wanted for a day.   He told me that he wanted to make sure he was alright.    He even shared how he had felt when his parents drowned when he was younger."

"Frodo sounds like a good friend to have around in times such as those," Strider said softly, amazed that the folk of Hobbiton failed to see what a true treasure the younger Baggins could have been if given the chance to shine.

"Aye, that he is, but after the second and the third day of him doing that, well I don't know really how to tell it.     I guess everything just got on top of me so as I wasn't thinking straight.    I did the most horrible thing to Mr Frodo on that fourth morning when he came with his basket, offering his words of comfort," Sam said, hanging his head a little in shame as tears began to well in his eyes at the memory of his scathing words.

"I am sure Frodo has forgiven you long ago, no matter what you said," Strider said in reassurance but still listening keenly.

"I am sure he has, Mr Strider, he has even told me so many times, but I don't know if I am ready to forgive myself for what I said.   He didn't deserve none of it."

The two ceased their conversation briefly when Frodo stirred in the blankets nearby and rolled over in his sleep, making a few incoherent mutterings as he did so.   They waited until the dark-haired hobbit's face was poised in peaceful sleep once more.

"When Mr Frodo came through the door that day, his face smiling as always and ready to help me through my troubles, I shouted at him to go away.   And not in a nice way either.    Even my sisters were shocked at the words I spoke to Mr Frodo that day.   I told him that I didn't need him coming over to my place everyday and treating me like a baby.   That he didn't really understand how I felt, and that he had not really known my mother long enough to know why I missed her so much."

"And you know the worst of it, Mr Strider?" Sam said as he now reproached himself for his deeds so many years ago.  "The part that hurts me the most isn't the words that I said to Mr Frodo, though they cut deep enough to be sure.   But it was the look on his face.   Those beautiful blue eyes of his welled up with tears and his face paled and that smile was replaced with a frown."

"He never said anything in return.  Though, my Old Gaffer threatened to take a switch to my hide when Marigold told him later that day.   Mr Frodo put the basket on the table, as polite as you please and walked back to Bag End, leaving me to my shame of what I had done."

Strider could tell that Sam's heart was breaking at how he had treated his best friend that day.    Though, looking at the two of them together over the past few days, they must have sorted out their differences and became friends again.

"The next day," Sam said after a brief pause, "Mr Frodo came back to my door again, basket of food again in his hand, just as he had every other day before that.   He never mentioned the hurtful words I had said.   He just kept giving me the support and encouragement I needed to go on after my mum."

"A true friend," Strider murmured quietly repeated.

"Mr Frodo was there for me, every day, whether I said I wanted it or not.   And even when I told him to go away and that I didn't want his help, he was still there for me.   From that day on, I promised myself that I would be there for him, just like that.  Even if he said to go away and never come back."

"And I see you have still kept your promise, even tonight," Strider commented.   "A noble thing, friendship, Master Gamgee, and something that shouldn't be thrown idly aside for the gain of greater riches."

"I will remember that, Mr Strider, and I promise to still be there for my master, Mr Frodo, on this journey, whenever he should need me.    For now, we had better get some sleep before the sun is shining upon us again," Sam said finally, preparing his own bedroll beside his friend.

"Goodnight Samwise," Strider whispered as he thought back over the story he had just been told.    

The next morning, Strider had already been awake for half an hour when Sam stirred and prepared to make breakfast for the three of them.

Frodo was still curled in his blankets, having slept soundly for the majority of the night.   Sam hoped his master was all the more rested today from it.  They still had an incredibly long way to walk to Bree, but alas there was no shorter route available to them at present.

"I will heat the water for tea first before disturbing Mr Frodo," Sam informed Strider, allowing his master a few extra minutes of rest.

Strider now noticed a strange looking lump under the corner of Frodo's blankets, trying to decide for a moment if he should be concerned.    The Ranger walked quietly over to the sleeping hobbit, aware that Sam was watching his every movement.

The Ranger began peeling back the corner of Frodo's blanket, revealing two things.  Firstly, a pair of warm hobbit feet, and secondly, two small hares curled up together, sharing the warmth being emitted from the owner of the blankets.

Carefully, Strider picked up the two little rabbits and settled them in a nestle of leaves beneath a nearby tree.    One of the rabbits had lifted its head as if to wonder why the warm blanket had been moved and why its peaceful slumber was being interrupted. 

"Mr Frodo must have been warm enough last night," Sam said as he laughed at the curious critters.   "He has always had a way with animals, for as long as I can remember.   Even Mr Bilbo talked about how Mr Frodo often found injured creatures on their walks and then would tend them as best he could."

"Animals can sense when they are threatened or if they are safe, Sam.    Shy little

creatures like that would only venture near if they sensed Frodo meant no harm to them," Strider remarked, truly believing in what he said.

When the tea was ready and the breakfast almost done, Sam knelt beside his master, trying to wake him.     Strider watched the sandy-haired hobbit's gentle methods, as he firstly caressed along Frodo's forearm, whispering his name softly.    When that didn't extract more than a soft sigh from Frodo, Sam opted to brushing some of the dark curls from his master's brow.

"Sam," Frodo said, slowing opening his eyes to greet his friend.  "Thank you for waking me, Sam.  What time is it?"

"Nearly time to begin walking again, Mr Frodo, but not before you have had something nice and hot in your belly and some tea to wash it down with," Sam said, helping his master to his feet and seeing to his bedroll.

"Thank you, Sam," Frodo said as he was handed his breakfast from Sam.   "Always looking after me," he added with a shy but appreciative smile.

Sam felt his face redden abruptly.   Had Mr Frodo heard the conversation to the Ranger last night?  Had he overheard what Sam had said about the reason for their friendship?

Strider couldn't help but hide a sly smile of his own behind his mug of tea.  He watched Frodo say nothing more than a few words to get Sam so flustered.    Sam would never know if Frodo had been listening the night before, the comment being general enough to not draw such an inference.  

"Today I would like to try less padding around my ankle, Strider," Frodo said as he polished of the last few bites of his breakfast.   "It feels a little stronger and it does not ache as badly."

"If you are certain that it is not causing you discomfort, Frodo," Strider answered.

"We have a long day ahead of us, but will stop and rest when you need to rest."

"I am sure, Strider, and as you say, we have such a long way to go today," Frodo confirmed.

Strider was unaware of just how eventful the day would become for all three travellers.

There wasn't even a hint or suggestion of the chaos that would ensue later as they approached the edge of the grasslands and neared a large expanse of agricultural farms and crops.    The three carefully navigated their way through rows and rows of large cabbages, the heads of which were nice and plump and ready for harvest any day now.

Then they came across the largest patch of carrots Sam had ever seen.    Surely there would have been enough carrots there to feed all of Hobbiton for a year.    The soil was rich and fertile in the Shire, and its bounty was plentiful this time of year. 

The sun was very high over head now, and although the morning had been crisp and cool, the tree travellers were relieved when spotting some shade in the cornfields.

Frodo had not said a lot that morning, seemingly content just to enjoy the warmth

of the sunshine and the scenery as they walked.    The dark-haired hobbit was some distance ahead as they entered the tall cornfield.

The corn plants barely reached above their knees on the very edges of the field.   Those closer in the centre that had been planted much earlier in the year were now tall and clumped densely together.   Some of them even reached as high as Strider's shoulder.

"We will stop here for a while and rest, Sam," the Ranger said, noting that they had gone considerably far today without a break.   "We can enjoy lunch in this shade and avoid the heat of the day.   Call your master back and tell him of our plans."

Sam was about to do exactly that when he became alarmed.   He could no longer see any sign of his master.   "I can't see him, Mr Strider," the hobbit declared, finding it rather difficult to manoeuvre through the tall plants or even find a suitable path to follow. 

Strider noted just how dwarfed the hobbits appeared in relation to the corn plants and saw how easy it could be for them to become disorientated or lost amongst the dense vegetation.

"Mr Frodo!  Mr Frodo!" Sam called out anxiously.   

Strider was not far behind Sam and tried his best to assure the hobbit that Frodo had not wandered too far ahead of them and that he was perfectly safe.

Much to Sam's relief, they turned down another corridor of plants, a little wider than before, allowing a little more scanning further on.    Frodo had heard his name called feverously twice more as he hurried back to the sound of Sam's voice.

"Sam was worried you might have gotten lost, Frodo," Strider said, trying to make light of the matter.

_"I thought I had lost you, is all_," Sam said sheepishly, feeling a little foolish.

_"What are you talking about, Sam_?" Frodo said with a laugh.   He had been merely enjoying the sights and sounds too much to notice how far in front he was of his companions. 

_"It's just something Gandalf said that's all_," Sam said as mentioned the promise he had made to the wizard.

Strider had certainly not been aware of this pact made between the wizard and the hobbit before Gandalf had departed.    The fact that Sam had chosen to keep it from Frodo made it even more intriguing.

_"What did he say?" _Frodo asked, his voice deepening with the question.

_"Don't you lose him Samwise Gamgee.   And I don't mean to," _Sam answered, reciting the promise he had made.

Strider's attention had been drawn to a slight rustling of the corn plants near Frodo, and he stepped a little closer to Sam, unsure as to what the disturbance could be.   He didn't want to draw his sword too hastily and alarm the two hobbits unnecessarily.  Perhaps it was another small animal and nothing more.

"_Sam, we are still in the Shire.   What could possibly happen?"_ Frodo said, thinking that Sam was worrying too much.    Before he had much more of a chance to quell his friend's fears, though, out of the corner of his eye, a small figure came racing out of the plants at Sam.

Although Sam had jumped out of the way with a startled cry, the figure had passed so close to him that he was forced to take even more evasive steps and had fell back against Strider who had been standing directly behind him.

Before Sam or Strider had a chance to ask what had happened, a second, smaller figure came hurtling out of the same place amongst the plants, this time straight at Frodo.   

Frodo had been looking with surprise at Sam and Strider, and he had barely had a chance to turn his head at a noise beside him, before he was hit full force by the figure.   He was knocked to the ground, his body jarring as it felt the impact, having no time to react.

"Oof!" came the exclamation, the only verbal response offered.  Followed by a sneeze as the pollen from the flowers atop of the tall stalks echoed with a resounding _THWACK _to Frodo's cheek.

Frodo lay amongst the bent plants, his breath driven from his lungs from the weight of the small figure.     He tried to regain his composure a little before attempting to figure out what had struck him out of nowhere.

_"Frodo!" _came a small voice from the figure, laying beside the slightly stunned, older hobbit.   "_Merry, it's Frodo."_

_"Hello, Frodo," _came the response from the figure who had almost careened into Sam.

"Mr Merry, Mr Pippin!" Sam cried out in shock as he recognized the two responsible for knocking over Frodo.  "Get off him!" the stout hobbit demanded, this time with a little more bite to his words than he was used to using.  

"Are you alright, Mr Frodo?" Sam asked, helping Frodo to his feet and holding onto his shirt sleeve until he had regained his balance.

"What are you two doing here?" Frodo asked his two cousins, addressing them in a parent-like tone of voice.    "This is Farmer Maggot's land," he told them, certain that the two mischief-makers knew exactly where they were.  They had been there on many occasions, most of them uninvited.

"We know that, dear Frodo.   But we were waiting for you," Merry said with a grin, now glancing at the Ranger and greeting him with the same cheeky smile.   Pippin followed suit, being the more impressionable of the two cousins.

Strider eyebrows rose together, knowing that Frodo would normally not approve of such behaviour.   This morning there had been only two hobbits, now they had multiplied to four.  What did this mean for him as their protector and provider and for the pending journey to Bree?

"What do you mean, waiting for me?" Frodo asked, suspicious from the outset.   He walked closer to Meriadoc to emphasis his question.  Daring them to lie to him.

"Well, Frodo, we went back to visit you at Bag End, but you were gone.   Sam's old Gaffer wouldn't tell us where you had gone, except to say that you were leaving the Shire.   So, naturally, we weren't going to let you go off on your own.   No offence intended there, Sam," Pippin explained for both of them.

"None taken, Mr Pippin," Sam replied, quite touched that the two younger hobbits

would be looking out for Frodo upon finding Bag End empty.   They hadn't exactly left any note for anybody in case someone should be looking for them.

"How did you know that we would pass this way?" Frodo asked, genuinely interested.   He didn't think anybody knew which direction they had fled in that night after seeing those dreadful creatures.  He was relieved that the danger had well passed by the time Merry and Pippin had called in to see him.

"That's easy, Frodo," Merry said, proud of his ability to deduce his cousin's route of choice.   "The Gaffer said you were headed out of the Shire.   Now, I don't rightly know why you are leaving, but there are few directions you could head in from Hobbiton.   You forget that I was always the better one at finding my way home when you lived at Brandy Hall."

Strider had to admire Merry's keen sense of logic when it came to such things.    The hobbit seemed to have good instincts when it came to his cousin to being able to track someone's movements with very few clues.   

"Well, next time I would appreciate a little more warning before you barrel into me like that unannounced.   But I am glad to see you.   Are you hungry, Pippin?" Frodo asked, knowing he really didn't need to ask such a question.

"Am I ever, I had barely anything since elevensies!" Pippin declared, his face lighting up with a smile at the suggestion of food.

"Do we have enough to share, Sam?" Frodo asked as the four hobbits and the Ranger found a suitable area to sit down and spread out, ready to enjoy lunch.    The plants were still blocking out the sun sufficiently, allowing them to rest without getting too hot.

"Well, I am sure we do, Mr Frodo," Sam said, digging through the food supplies in the bags.   There was probably enough for a few more days, but given how much Mr Pippin was likely to eat at any one sitting, he wasn't totally confident.

"We can add to what you already have, Frodo," Merry said happily, passing on the armful of carrots and the bag full of mushrooms that had been collected during their mornings activities.

Frodo looked over the supply of carrots, freshly pulled from the ground, it looked, and the plump, ever-enticing mushrooms.   Somehow, he had already guessed where the extra supplies had originated from; he was just avoiding the subject as long as possible.

"You two have been into Farmer Maggot's crop," Sam accused the two with a finger pointed at them.  "There will be punishment for sure if he finds out."

"And who is going to tell him, Sam?" Merry pointed out, knowing that none of them wanted to openly admit to pilfering the farmer's vegetables.   "Anyway, he won't miss a few carrots or a couple of mushrooms."

"Gentleman, I do not wish to intrude on what clearly seems to be a family discussion," Strider interrupted, "However, we need to discuss a very real problem that now faces us," he added, hoping that Frodo would be astute enough to know what he meant.

"What are you talking about?" Merry asked, stuffing a mushroom into his mouth while waiting for the Ranger to explain further.

"He is talking about you, Merry, and you, Pippin," Frodo now voiced, clearly understanding the predicament that had suddenly presented itself.   "You shouldn't be here.  You need to go home back to your families."

Merry stared at Frodo for a few seconds, completely forgetting about eating the second half of the mushroom in his hand.   He looked a little hurt by Frodo's words and was trying to think of the best way to respond.

"Frodo, our parents were due to leave Hobbiton this morning to head back home.   I doubt we would catch them no matter how fast we hurried after them.   And I am certain, you being as concerned for your cousins as you should be, you would not want us walking all the way back by ourselves," Merry said.

Pippin was a little more dramatic than his older cousin.   He wasn't about to let Frodo send him home just like that.  "But you can't send us home, Frodo!" he declared, on the  verge of tears, throwing his arms around Frodo's neck and burying his face into his cousin's shirt. "You just can't," he repeated fighting back of tears, clearly not understanding this point of view.

"I can't take you with me, it will be too dangerous, Merry and Pippin," Frodo said, clearly being torn in two with his love for his younger cousins and his desire to keep them safe, in addition to the task he had taken onto himself:  taking the ring to Bree to meet Gandalf.

"Too dangerous.   Where are you headed?" Merry asked, his tone turning serious at the thought that Frodo might be putting himself in danger for an undisclosed cause.

Frodo looked towards the Ranger, waiting for a signal that it was permissible to tell them without threatening the secrecy of their journey.    Strider gave a small nod, easing Frodo's fears, though the warning gaze told him to err on the side of caution instead of revealing more than he need to at this point in time.

"Sam and I must get to Bree," Frodo said quietly.   "We promised to meet Gandalf there with the help of Strider.   That is all I can tell you for now."

"Right then, there is nothing more to be said -- we are going with you whether you like it or not," Merry said cheerfully, but in a tone that suggested his mind was already firmly made up.    Pippin would no doubt follow him, whatever the decision.

"But you can't………," Frodo began to protest, looking to Sam and Strider to add to his voice of concern at such a proposal.   

Strider didn't have any alternate suggestions as to what they may do.  They couldn't take the time to escort the hobbits to safer ground, less they risk the journey altogether.   Even leaving them here in the cornfield might place them in peril, especially after the encounter they had had back in the Shire.

"If we don't come with you, Frodo, and we are forced to make it all the way home on our own, you will may be held responsible for whatever happens to us along the way," Pippin said, taking a bit out of one of the apples from Frodo's backpack.

"And just what do you mean by that, Peregrin?" Frodo asked, not enjoying put in such a position of authority.

"Do you want to tell him, or shall I?" Pippin asked, directing his question at Merry.

"Tell me what, Meriadoc?" Frodo said, his temper rising a little as he felt like the explanations were going all around him.  

"You didn't get my master into any sort of trouble, did you?" Sam piped in, seeing the guilty looks on the faces of the two younger hobbits.

"No!" Pippin quickly said in their defence.  "We haven't done that, Sam."

"Not yet, anyway," Merry found himself saying out loud.

"Why do I get the feeling that I am not going to like the next thing to say, Merry?" Frodo sighed, frustration beginning to show in his voice.

"Our parents won't be worried about us, Frodo, not for a while yet, anyway," Merry tried explaining, inching a little closer away from his cousin towards the Ranger, just in case.

"We told them that we were with you," Pippin said, taking another bite of the apple and smiling as he gave the second half of the story.   The smile soon left his face though as he looked back at Frodo.

"YOU WHAT!!" Frodo shouted, pulling himself back, instantly regretting the volume of his voice.   Forcing himself to take a deep breath and letting it out slowly again, Frodo now repeated the question in a calmer manner.

"You what?" Frodo said, his voice lowered in volume, but losing none of its intensity.  

Merry became the one to answer. "Well, you know what our parents are like, Frodo.  They wouldn't have let us go off on our own with just anybody.   But they certainly would not have had any objections if we were under your supervision."

"Oh, a fine mess, to say the least, that you have placed me in for sure," Frodo said ruefully.    A sense of uneasy dread was already beginning to settle in the pit of his stomach.

"Don't worry, Frodo, we will be there to help you explain why we were gone for so long," Pippin said cheerfully, wrapping his arm around the older hobbit as he tried to think ahead to what seemed like an inevitable and unescapable doom.

"How long do you think our journey will take, Strider?" Frodo asked, the foreboding in his mind growing with every second.   What was he going to say to get them out of this trouble?

Strider thought carefully for a moment, noting the slightly distressed look on Frodo's face.   "I cannot rightly say, but it may be weeks, even longer," he replied, knowing that his answer did nothing to reassure Frodo.

"Weeks!" Pippin squeaked, not fully realising that they would be away from their families all that time.   He had no intentions to leave Frodo until he knew he was safe, but he began to have the same concerns as his older cousin.

"How am I going to face your parents and attempt to explain what has happened to you during that time?" Frodo thought out loud.   "Not to mention all of your other relatives that would no doubt wish to do me bodily harm for doing such a thing."

"You know my parents almost as well as I do, Frodo," Pippin said, not showing any signs of being concerned.   My mother will merely sob for hours before wanting to feed you, telling you how thin you always are."

"What about your father, Pippin?" Frodo accused, knowing that Paladin Took was a more formidable person to be face than most others.   "How am I to stand before the Thain and tell him that I dragged his only son and heir throughout the roads of the Shire and abroad without so much as a word of goodbye or of where we are headed?"

"Then there will be Pippin's three sisters cross at you too, Frodo," Merry added with mirth, the laugh quickly fading at the glare he received for that helpful piece of information.

"Thain?" Strider asked, a little confused at the hierarchy that existed in the hobbit world.  He had briefly heard the title somewhere during his troubles, but unfortunately little more.   His query went unanswered.

"Never fear, dear Frodo.    Being Thain, most likely all he will do is have you dragged before the entire hobbit community of Tuckborough and then demand that you be soundly thrashed within an inch of your life," Pippin joked.

Sam had gasped out loud at the mere notion of such a barbaric punishment being dealt to his master.   He would soon see himself bear such torture than Mr Frodo.    A quiet whisper from Merry allowed him to relax, though, as Merry informed him that Pippin was being overdramatic. 

"Then there will be your father Merry, Saradoc Brandybuck.  Though, from my experience in living under his roof, he is probably more likely to understand why we left in such haste," Frodo commented.

"You're right, Frodo, my father will no doubt forgive you soon enough," Merry agreed, but then he couldn't help but feel his own fears rising at the thought of whom might not be so understanding from his family.   "But dear cousin………..," he began.

Frodo noted the pinched look on Merry's face and the eyes that spoke a thousand words.  He knew whom his cousin was thinking of.    "Your mother, Esmeralda Brandybuck."

Merry nodded in acknowledgement, pleased that he didn't need to explain any further.   "She is, after all, the younger sister of the Thain, a Took, and with a fiery temper to match his."

"Merry, you do remember what happened the last time you and I came home late to Brandy Hall, don't you?" Frodo asked, swallowing hard as the image came back to him.

"Only too well, Frodo.   I wasn't able to sit down for almost a week afterwards," Merry recalled.   "I thought it was most unfair, though, seeing as we were only two hours late.   You tried to explain to her that we had only been down at the river fishing."

"My ear was still painful for the next three days, Merry.   I do not think I could endure another lecture like that again without suffering permanent hearing loss.  I am sure your mother's voice could be heard by Bilbo back at Bag End that day," Frodo said.

"I must admit that the hierarchy in the hobbit world is most complex and difficult to follow," Strider commented, trying to lighten everyone's mood.    For the time being, he realised they would have little choice but to take the younger hobbits along with Sam and Frodo.

"Sam, I beseech you to take up Strider's sword, strike me down and slay me while I do not resist.  It would be more merciful than what I would face otherwise upon my return to the Shire," Frodo said, laying back against the corn stalks and covering his eyes with his arm as though he were one awaiting execution.

"I shall do not such thing, Mr Frodo," Sam said immediately, horrified that his master would ask such a thing.   He relaxed though as he saw a sly smile on Frodo's face.    "We don't even have extra blankets and things for Mr Merry and Mr Pippin," he added, thinking more logically about the extra provisions they would now need.

Food wasn't a problem at the moment; they had more than enough, except maybe to fill Mr Pippin's stomach.  But they could always forage and make what they carried last with hunting and gathering along the way until they reached Bree.       

Frodo looked at Merry and Pippin, "Don't worry Sam, we have many spare blankets within reach.   All we need do is to collect them."

"Our secret hiding place," Merry said energetically, happy that Frodo remembered.

"Do you think you can find it again easily enough?" Frodo asked, knowing it had been some time since he had needed to use it or any of the supplies within.

A guilty look from both Merry and Pippin told Frodo that the hiding place had been used on a much more regular basis than he was made aware of.  

Frodo placed his hands on hips, ready to demand they come clean about how many times recently they had come here, uninvited.   But the two younger hobbits quickly scurried away to gather what they needed before their cousin had a chance to ask them anything of their illegal activities.

Frodo had never really told Sam about his previous visits to Farmer Maggot's fields.   He had been hoping that maturity had simply allowed him to see the error of his ways and leave them behind.

While the two youngest hobbits gathered the extra things they needed to take with them, Frodo, Sam and Strider packed up from lunch and prepared to begin walking again as soon as Merry and Pippin returned.

One concern that did plague Frodo at the moment was whether Merry and Pippin were up to walking for hours on end with very little rest in between.   He knew they were used to taking strolls around Hobbiton and Brandy Hall, not to mention Tuckborough, but this journey would be much more urgent and require them to be a little more grownup than they sometimes acted.

"Ready to go, lads?" Frodo asked when his cousins appeared beside him, bearing their own packs, which were no doubt laden with more food than useful items.

Before the two hobbits could respond, there was a loud rustling sound from further away in the cornfield, followed by ferocious barking of dogs.

"Oh, no," Frodo whispered, the fear in him beginning to grow, and being reflected back at him through the eyes of Merry and Pippin.

"Farmer Maggot," Pippin voiced, knowing that they had helped themselves to many more mushrooms and carrots than they should have.

"Those dogs are huge, Frodo, what do we do?" Merry asked, hearing the animals 

coming closer and closer.   To the Ranger they may not have seemed larger than a

human-sized dog, but on hobbits their large teeth could inflict real hurt.

"What are you all doing in my field?" Farmer Maggot yelled, coming towards them with a long-handed sickle in his hand.   "Get out of my vegetables, you little thieves."

Strider could see a great more over the field than the hobbits, but was only able to

note the sickle and a hat, the rest of the threatening man hidden by his own tall corn stalks.   He attempted to reassure the hobbits that they would be in no danger, having no idea until now that the fields were guarded by dogs.

The dogs barked again and giving into their fear, Frodo, Merry and Pippin fled into the tall plants, scattering in three different directions.    The Ranger was unable to catch a glimpse of even one of them.

Sam was still beside him for a moment or so more, not as keenly aware of the danger the dogs presented.   He had not been to the fields before or seen the animals.   

"You wait until I catch up with you little devils!" Farmer Maggot shouted threateningly.

That was all it required for Sam to lose his nerve and attempt to run after Frodo and the other hobbits.

"No, Sam, don't……………," but Strider's half completed sentence wasn't heeded.

"Wait for me, Mr Frodo!" Sam declared and was off, in the direction of his master, he hoped, whichever that may be.

From this point, Strider's main goal was to find each of the hobbits and gather them together in one place.   If they truly were under threat of injury then it would be much more difficult to come to their aid if they were all separated.

To the Ranger's relief, Farmer Maggot seemed to lose interest in chasing the hobbits almost as quickly as he had begun shouting threats at them.   The dogs were still barking, but now they were heading further away from the cornfields.

The question now remained how to find the hobbits amongst the tall vegetation.  Being able to see them through the thick and densely clumped plants was out of the question unless they were directly in his line of sight.

Up until lunch time and their passage through the cornfield, Strider had been confident that he was in control of any unexpected situation that may arise.   Now, searching for four hobbits instead of two, he wasn't so sure.

"Mr Frodo?  Where are you, Mr Frodo?" came Sam's voice.

There was no answer in return, but out of the four hobbits, Strider was certain that Sam would be able to find Frodo soon enough and not draw any unnecessary attention.   He decided that it was better to try and find Merry and Pippin first.

Strider was given his first clue as to their direction as he heard each of their voices.

"Merry, where are you?" came Pippin to the Ranger's right.

"Over here, Pip!" Merry answered back, to the left and behind Strider.

Strider decided to track down Merry, hoping to use his assistance when it came time to finding Pippin.    That idea quickly left him, though, as he thought he spotted a crown of golden curls amongst the corn plants.   "_Pippin!" _he muttered to himself and strode as quickly as possible to gather in the smaller hobbit.

Pippin had heard the approach of someone through the plants, but jumped in alarm when realising that the steps were much bigger than the ones that would have been made by a hobbit.   It had to be a Big Person coming.

The hobbit was driven by fear and determination to escape, not knowing that Farmer Maggot had ceased his chase and departed the cornfield.    

"Got you!" Strider declared as he managed to get a hold of Pippin's jacket.     

Pippin hadn't recognized the Ranger's deep voice and didn't dare turn around in case he lost valuable time in running away from his captor.    "MERRY!" Pippin shrieked at the top of his voice, still attempting to wrestle out of Strider's grip.

"Help, Merry, he's got hold of me and I can't get free!" Pippin yelled again, putting as much emphasis into his words as possible.

"Don't worry, Pip, I am coming!" Merry shouted back, running as fast as he could in the direction of his cousin's voice.

Merry, in his haste to help Pippin, paid little attention to whom the hand still holding his cousin's jacket belonged to.    All he was concerned about was setting the younger hobbit free.

Coming from Strider's right, Merry dealt a glancing blow with his foot to Pippin's captor and tried to pull him free.   

Strider was not prepared for the powerful kick from Merry and immediately lost his grip on the still struggling hobbit.  "OW!" he gasped, reaching down to the affected area and rubbing at the short burst of pain present.

Merry and Pippin had heard the Ranger's gasp, but were still too concerned with fleeing into the corn stalks to note who the Big Person was.

"Merry, Pippin!" Strider tried to yell and chase after the two hobbits again, but the two youngsters were hidden by the vegetation once again.    The Ranger's level of abject frustration was rising, as he was forced to stop after just a few metres and rub at his knee again.

Strider thought mercy was about to smile on him again, though, as he spotted a head of curly, honey-coloured curls.    Thinking it was Pippin, the Ranger quickly grabbed out towards the hobbit, lifting the culprit up by the collar of his jacket to make him cease struggling.

"Oi!" came the surprised yelp, but it was not Pippin.     Strider sighed audibly as his gaze fell on Sam, who was looking back at the Ranger with confusion and embarrassment on his face.

"We really must stop meeting in this fashion, Samwise," Strider said, setting Sam down on the ground, confident that this level headed-hobbit wasn't about to flee.

"Sam, where are you?  I cannot see you," came Frodo's voice.    He was more difficult to spot than the other hobbits due to his darker hair colour.

"Why are you limping, Mr Strider?" Sam asked, as he noted how gingerly the Ranger was walking.   "I am right here, Mr Frodo.    Just you wait there, I am coming to you," Sam then shouted and started heading in the direction of his master's voice, completely forgetting about the Ranger standing nearby.

"No, Sam, wait!" Strider tried to get out, taken off his guard at Sam's sudden desire to run again and his tongue tied in knots.   But his words fell on deaf ears once again, there only being corn stalks now where Sam had stood but a few moments ago.

Strider had the sudden urge to draw his long sword and cast a few slashing blows to the bottom of the corn stalks so that he could have a better view of the hobbits.   Fortunately he forced himself to calm down a minute and direct his attention back to the problem at hand.   He reached his hand up and drew it down his face in an exaggerated gesture of his frustration.

Things were not going as he would have hoped.   He had been trying to find four hobbits within the space of half an hour.  Subsequently he had heard two of them shouting at each other, and received a painful kick to his knee.   And not before losing sight of three of them again.   He had heard Frodo's voice, but had yet to spot him at all during this fiasco.   

After much treading through the thick greenery, Strider found the edge of the cornfields, thinking that sooner or later, one of the hobbits would find the same exit.    He was alarmed to see that this side of the cornfield only led to a dangerous overhang.

To his immediate relief, Strider now spotted Frodo coming out of the cornfield, headed towards him.    He frowned a little, though, as the hobbit was still running as though being pursued.    Sam was close behind him.    The two hobbits ran out of the corn and paused a few feet from the edge of the cliff.

Both of the hobbits were panting heavily after running.   Frodo was limping even more than the Ranger, obviously he had caused more pain to his ankle by fleeing.

"Are you alright, Mr Frodo?" Sam asked, noting his master's pained face and how he was bending down and massaging the affected ankle.

Strider was about to go to the dark-haired hobbit.   He paused, though, when a second rustle from the cornfield signalled Merry and Pippin finding their friends.   Unfortunately, they had yet to stop running and the Ranger could only watch with muted horror at the impact that was about to happen.

Frodo had just stood up to answer Sam's concerns and had started to turn at the noise.  Sam, however, had gotten a better glimpse of the trouble and put his hands up in a warning gesture, trying to ward off the two younger hobbits.

"No…….no……stop!" Sam cried out, but that was all he managed before Merry and Pippin barrelled into him, causing a chain-like effect.    Sam could not stop himself from pushing heavily against Frodo, who then had enough momentum to tumble down the steep ravine.

Strider cursed out loud in Elvish, trying as best he could to follow the four hobbits as they rolled out of control down the embankment.    How many hurt hobbits would be at the bottom and what injuries he would be faced with was yet to be determined.

"This day has not been good for hobbits," Strider said to himself, running as fast as he could without stumbling himself.

TO BE CONTINUED………………………

Please let me know if you are enjoying this story so far.   Lots of things happening in the next chapter.   Frodo will try and hide something that happens from his companions, including Sam.    Pippin will find himself in trouble again, but this time with more dire consequences for his cousin Frodo.

JULES


	10. Of Herbs and Stewed Rabbits

ESCAPE THE DARKNESS

**By JULES**

**Author's Quick Note **– This story explores the idea about what might have happened if Strider had come to the Shire to forewarn Bilbo Baggins about the Ringwraiths that would soon come hunting for the One Ring. Commences a few days before Bilbo's Birthday Party and before Gandalf returns to the Shire as well.

Strider had vows to protect Bilbo when the Ringwraiths are sent by the Dark Lord but he is unaware that the legacy of who is to carry the Ring to be destroyed falls upon a totally different Baggins hobbit.

**Disclaimer** -  I do not own any of these characters but enjoy writing them and their adventures together.

**Herbs and Stewed Rabbits**

Strider heard a multitude of sharp gasps and grunts as he pursued the four tumbling and rolling hobbits down the embankment.  He had to slow his own pace on a couple of occasions to prevent losing his own footing on the shale-covered slope.  

The ground was quite hard, and there were only small, idle tufts of grass to cushion the hobbits, as they cart-wheeled over and over again.  The Ranger was not able to distinctly see which hobbit was in front or behind the group.  Frodo and Sam had certainly been at the front when Merry and Pippin had struck them from behind as they ran out of the cornfields.

Now it seemed that Merry was ahead of his dark-haired cousin, Frodo.  Strider could see that Frodo was now at the rear of the group.  That left Sam and Pippin somewhere in between.

The tumbling and spiralling was brought to an abrupt end as the ravine suddenly came to an end.  There was a sizeable fall from the over hang to the roadway below.  Merry landed with a great thud, but a loud gasp of air was driven from his lungs as Pippin's small frame landed awkwardly on his mid-section.

Sam was now following, trying to avoid the two other hobbits as much as possible, but still landing sprawled amidst legs and arms.  Frodo was indeed the last, and could not escape the hobbit pile, finding himself toppled on top of Sam.  He was on his back, but looked a little dazed and shaken.  His eyes were wide, still contemplating what had just befallen them all.

"Are you alright, Mr Frodo?" Sam asked from somewhere beneath the pile of limbs.  He was pushing aside the weight on top of him until he heard the owner speak, realising that he was roughly shoving his master instead of not Merry or Pippin.

"I think so, Sam," Frodo answered in a shaky voice.  "I am sorry I landed on you so hard," Frodo said as he found himself sitting on the damp ground, but he was holding out his hand and offering it to his friend.

Strider reached Merry and Pippin and helped them to their feet first, already hearing Frodo and Sam exchanging words.  The two cousins seemed shocked, to say the least.  Neither of them had spoken yet, trying to take stock of their hurts, and trying to pull themselves up from their most embarrassing position.

"Don't be sorry, Mr Frodo.  I am much sturdier than you.  That little tumble didn't do me no harm," Sam offered, wincing a little at a bruise that had formed on his upper arm, no doubt coming from a wayward hobbit foot.

"Are you two sure that you are not hurt?" Strider asked Merry and Pippin, kneeling in front of the smaller two and watching their faces for any signs of hiding discomfort or pain.   They seemed to be speaking the truth, though Pippin looked a little paler than normal.

"What about you, Frodo and Sam?   Frodo, I saw you rubbing at your ankle just before you all fell.   Let me take a look at it now," the Ranger instructed.   

"It was hurting a little before, but it is nothing too bad," Frodo said, knowing that they couldn't delay their journey each time his ankle became a little cumbersome.  In truth, he had felt it twinge a little at the top of the ravine, but he would have to bear it until nightfall and when they were a little safer from where they stood now.

Strider seemed to read Frodo's thoughts a little, and although he sympathized with the hobbit, upon examination, the ankle had not suffered any further swelling.  He would soak it when they made camp and rewrap it in athelas-soaked bandages.

"Mushrooms!" Pippin declared, dashing off with Merry quickly following to the delicious patch that the young hobbit had spotted.  They had only gone 20 metres, and were considered in no imminent danger at present.

Frodo got to his feet with Strider's help, and began walking a few steps on his ankle to see how it faired.   His concentration was distracted by a sudden gasp from Sam, as he bent down to pick up his dishevelled backpack.  The stout hobbit had grasped at his

upper arm in pain that resulted from lifting the heavy laden pack.

"What is it, Sam?" Frodo asked worriedly, instantly beside his friend in a moment and trying to get Sam to lift his sleeve up and reveal the cause of his pain. 

"Tis nothing to worry about, Mr Frodo," Sam said, very appreciative of the concern that his master was showering on him, but a little shy when admitting that he was hurt.

Strider smiled and noted that it seemed he had at least one more hobbit than Frodo who denied when he was hurt.  The ranger came to help.  "I will take care of Sam, Frodo," he offered.

Frodo nodded his head in agreement, seeing that Sam was uneasy about having being fussed about for a minor injury.   He resumed his walking to test his ankle while the ranger examined Sam's arm.

The hobbit's concentration was currently focused on the floor of the forested road and on his feet.  The air was mild, perhaps a little warmer than earlier due to the thick coverage of canopy.

When questioned on his feelings and observations about this day at a much later time, Frodo would at recall that he deemed there to be no difference in their passage out of the Shire so far.  

The road itself was hard, but softened in a flood of colour by the falling leaves that continued to rain down upon the forest floor, leaving an endless blanket behind.  Almost every hue possible could be distinguished, from dirty browns towards the bottom, to warm reds and yellows mixed together, signalling the duration of the season.

Fall was definitely Frodo's favourite time of the year.   Here Mother Nature spoke of life regeneration and a time of change for all living things.  The trees shed their leaves, eager to have the last of their opened seed pods distributed upon the wind or by hungry insects or birds.

The months grew cooler, making it necessary to use a coat or a blanket, but warmth could also be found by watching the animals scurrying about for last minute food storage before the colder months arrived. 

Frodo looked to where his two cousins were busily discussing the finer art of which mushroom belonged to whom.  Just a few metres beyond them, the terrain became more dense and wooded.  Even the ravine they had just tumbled down was shaded by an avenue of trees.  The canopy was very thick, and little sunlight penetrated to the roadway below. 

The embankment was shrouded in sapling trees, no more than a year old, showing again the life cycle that carried on despite the change in season.  Frodo swallowed and gave silent thanks to the fact that the place where they had fallen down the ravine was mostly void of such vegetation.  Had any of them had the misfortune of travelling through the younger trees, anyone or all of them could have been more seriously hurt.

It was neither tree nor bird nor animal or any other living creature that made him stand dead still on that road.   All at once, his senses were alerted to some unknown threat that seemed to be coming towards them.  When briefly looking over and his cousins and then, Strider and Sam, Frodo noted that his companions had yet to sense any danger approaching.

Describing the feeling that crept up on him was impossible even if he could find the correct words.  He took two cautious steps forward as if not wanting to make any sound that would alert their presence to whatever was nearing. 

Frodo shivered violently as though someone's icy cold hand had run down the back of his spine.  He went to pull his jacket around his shoulders tighter as if the drop in temperature was atmospheric.   Unfortunately, it was not, and the hobbit's brow turned into a slight frown, as he stared out towards the avenue of trees a few metres away.

Strider had just finished tending to Sam's arm when he noticed the hesitant, almost timid steps from Frodo.  He followed the hobbit's line of sight, curious to know what kept Frodo's avid attention.

Frodo's body language told the Ranger that the hobbit was fearful of something.  "Frodo?" he said softly, not wanting to heighten the fear.  He could tell by the hobbit's stance that this fear was different from that which he had witnessed in the cornfields due

to the ferocious barking from Farmer Maggot's hounds.   

Frodo bowed his head for a moment and clutched a hand over the pocket of his weskit where the ring was hidden.  His eyes were closed and his lips pouted as if mumbling a small word or two.    

For Frodo himself, it seemed that the ring had almost came into being an entity all of its own.   He knew how incredulous it seemed, but for a brief second, the ring was heavier or at least felt like it had an invisible energy attached to it.

Just when he tried to berate himself for being foolish, he thought he heard a voice call out.   Not to him specifically, but to the ring.   And as impossible as he thought it, the ring returned some sort of response to the voice.

Frodo jerked his head up violently at the voice he could hear in the distance.  It grew closer and closer, but continued  to call out as though a beacon.  Through the avenue of trees and the dense canopy, a chill wind blew.   The leaves lying on the ground were hurled and tossed around in the gust only to be caught up in the swirl again before coming to rest and blowing around again.

There was an eerily pale light coming through the trees, signalling the nearing of the threat and the growing danger he and his companions were in.  The chilly wind continued to blow about, flapping the tail of his cloak as though it had long, spindly fingers.

Not only could Frodo see the gust of wind getting stronger and the luminous quality of the light getting stronger, but he felt a shadow darkening over his heart and mind.

_"Get off the road, quick!"_ Frodo announced, making sure that his two cousins ran to safety before him.  

Strider noted the urgency in the hobbit's voice, and could sense the arrival of evil to the forest.  He knew of the cause and wanted to desperately shield these gentle creatures from such abject horror and macabre nature of what they were trying to hide from.

In fear for the smaller hobbits, Strider threw caution to the wind and with two large steps, gathered Merry and Pippin under each arm.  The hobbits had let go a squeak at having their feet suddenly lose contact with the ground and they struggled for a second or so, only too aware of the strangulating grip the Ranger had around their middles.

With a hobbit under each arm, Strider made to cross the roadway into the thicker forested area that Frodo had sought.  "Sam, grab the packs," the Ranger said, not wanting to leave any sign of them having been there.

"Right you are," Sam said, and made a haphazard gathering of Merry and Pippin's belongings and Mr Frodo's, sure that he would have used more care if they could spare the time.   For the moment, Sam was too concerned with keeping track of where his master was.

Frodo and Strider had scrambled over the protruding roots of a large tree near the roadway.  There was a small cavern space underneath provided by the root for Frodo and Sam to conceal themselves under.  

Strider could not fit, though, and there was no time to let Merry or Pippin down from his grasp.  The Ranger was forced to hide the hobbits on the other side of the large root structure.  He did his best to use his well-worn cloak to disguise his presence, leaving only his eyes free to observe the approaching foe.

Merry and Pippin were well hidden under the root of the tree, and had the added advantage of Strider lying almost invisibly alongside to conceal them further.  Sam had tried to ensure that his master was hidden the very best he could. 

At the moment, though, all of Frodo's thoughts seemed to be concentrated on the voice he could hear and on the ring.   He wasn't conscious of Sam's worried looks or attempts to shield him further with his cloak like the ranger had done.  Frodo looked up at an awkward angle through a narrow gap in the roots.  His hands trembled slightly from fear, and he nervously wrung them together over and over again.

Sam was loath to spoil the cloak he wore any more than he had to.  It was the one Frodo had given him as a present before they left the Shire and Bag End.  He would not like to see it fall to ruin so soon on their journey.   He was trying to brush a few stray leaves that had tangled in the fine material when he noticed how bad Frodo was trembling and how frightened he was.  He took his master's hand in his and tried to give what comfort and support he could, not able to deny that he was none the less afraid.

Pippin tried his best to look over to where Sam and Frodo were hidden, but a firm hold on the young hobbit from the Ranger prevented him from doing so.  His curiosity didn't last long, though, as his whole body began to tremble from the sound of the approaching foe.

As the evilness came closer, it could be distinguished in the form of horse's hooves clopping along the leaf-littered roadway above.  Any breeze that had been present now stopped as if the very forest itself held its breath for what was to come.

The horse was snorting and bucking as it bore its rider closer and closer to where the man and the four hobbits concealed themselves.  For a brief moment, it appeared they might be spared the horror of the black rider.  That glimmer of hope was quickly snuffed out, however, when the horse made another noise and stopped from going any further.

Sam had grown up around horses for most of his life in Hobbiton.  Whilst he didn't claim himself to be an expert of any kind, there was something macabre about this animal that caused him to think that the rider was being carried by no living horse.  

Whilst they had heard its approach, the horse wheezed and snorted as though an animal writhing in the grips of failing lungs.  If the hobbits had been able to get a closer look at the poor beast, they would have seen it shy away from its black cloaked rider, almost in as much fear as they were.  

The Ringwraith bent the animal's will to do his bidding, and in doing so, he trapped its soul and drew out of it anything living or resembling life.   From where Sam could see up through the twisted root of the tree where he and Frodo hid themselves, he could see the horse's hooves shot in heavy, thick shoes.  

Crude and harsh nails held the metal in place under the hoof.  The bridle and the reins were made of a thick, course black leather.  The saddle, fitting the animal well, bore the heavy weight of the Ringwraith.   Armour-plated boots and gloves increased the load on the animal's back.

Without realising it, Sam had released his hold on Frodo's hands whilst looking up at the rider and beast above.  The fear inside the hobbits was growing with each second.  The horse had stopped and the rider dismounted, its iron clad boots clashing loudly on the ground as it stepped to approach where they were hidden.

The cloaked figure sniffed at the air as though he was seeking something by scent.  It was only the Ranger who knew of this method used by the servants of Sauron.  Everything around them appeared to grow still as though the presence of the Ringwraith caused a great void in the fabric of life.  

Something happened at that very moment that caused Frodo to become aware for the first time that the 'ring' had a life force all of its own.  He had heard Gandalf talk about the ring and it's power over those it sought to corrupt or destroy.  But never, until now, had he actually **_felt _**its power.

The ring called out to him.  There was no other rational explanation.  Frodo looked over at Sam to see if he could hear the voice speaking, but his sandy-haired friend nowheld still with his eyes shut tight, trying to avoid the evil that was trying to find them.

Frodo looked down at the ring, its voice a little more than a hum in his ear.  It spoke threateningly, telling Frodo of darkness to come and of evil that could not be suppressed nor held back.

The hum began to grow louder until it was like a roaring echo in his mind.  Frodo's eyes had grown wide at the voice upon first hearing it, but now he tried to close them and shut out the echo that plagued him.  

Frodo could still feel the Ringwraith searching for the ring.  The sniffing became more insistent, and the cloaked figure grew ever so close.  The dark-haired hobbit looked up through the twist of root and swallowed hard at the sight above.  Without warning, the Ringwraith threw itself along the ground, trying to peer over the twisted section of root, knowing that what he sought was very close.

Frodo closed his own eyes against the force of the voice that still spoke to him.  It was urging him to put on the ring, and the harder he fought to resist such a command, the weaker he seemed to become.  Without realising what he was doing, and without his companions aware of what called out to him, Frodo withdrew the small piece of gold band from his vest pocket.   

The gold of the band sparkled in the darkness almost like a beacon.  The voice was still insisting for him to put the ring on, Frodo was now holding out a trembling hand, his finger travelling towards the ring as if to slid it onto his index finger.

Strider knew that if they were going to escape the clutches of the Ringwraith, then he would have to cause a distraction to divert the creature's attention.  It would have to be long enough for him to help the hobbits further into the forest and away from danger.

Feeling around the immediate area with his hand, not daring to move too for fear of alerting his presence to the Ringwraith, he sought something to cause the distraction.  He sighed inwardly as his fingers came across a thick branch of a tree.

For a brief moment, he caught the eyes of both Merry and Pippin, giving them a stare to indicate what he intended to do.  With a brief move of his head, the two hobbits understood that they would have to run from their hiding place as soon as the Ranger

made his move.  

There was no way to warn Sam or Frodo of what was about to take place.  The Ranger had to rely on them following behind once they had enough of a chance away from their pursuer.  With all of the strength that he held in one arm, Strider now tossed the branch low and hard away from the tree and the hobbits.

The desired reaction was achieved with the Ringwraith whirling around at the sound some distance behind and immediately heading that way to investigate the source.

"Now!" Strider whispered to Merry and Pippin, pushing the two hobbits out from their hiding place and urging them down the embankment in front of them and further into the trees.  The trees grew more dense in this direction, and hopefully their direction of travel would be concealed and muffled by the layers of leaves underfoot.  The leaves in this area of the forest were dampened and sodden, allowing quieter movement.

Sam opened his eyes, looking sideways at his master and instantly becoming alarmed at what he saw.  He heard Strider whisper something to Master Merry and Pippin.  Although he couldn't hear what had been said, the trio now moved away from their hiding place, and he knew he must help Frodo to do the same.

"Come on, Mr Frodo," Sam encouraged, placing his hands over those of his master.  Sam frowned and thought he had caused his master pain when Frodo seemed to yelp in fright at his touch.  He saw the ring in his master's hand, but didn't know why his master would bring the devilish thing out in the open at such a time.  

Frodo's eyes opened as he came out of his trance-like state, and he looked about in confusion to see Sam's urgent face in front of him.  He wanted to tell his friend about the strange desire he had felt, but at the moment, with the Ringwraith still so close, there was no time.

Still clasping the ring in the palm of his hand, Frodo quickly went with Sam and followed the Ranger and his cousins down the embankment towards the thicker canopy of the trees.

For what seemed like hours, but was probably only twenty minutes at the most, the Ranger led the hobbits into the thicker forest of trees, hoping to gain some distance between themselves and the Ringwraith.  He knew the Ringwraiths wouldn't stop their search for the ring.

The hobbits seemed too afraid of what followed to ask what it or its purpose were.  A detailed explanation would have to wait until a safer location could be sought before nightfall.

After a time, the Ranger changed positions within the group, preferring to be guiding the hobbits from behind.  This would protect the smaller folk should something be still pursuing them from the trees.  His skills of tracking should alert him to any

potential danger before the hobbits could come to any harm.

Strider reminded himself that the most important thing next to fleeing was keeping the hobbits together.  Should one or more of them become separated from the group, the consequences could be dire.   A lone hobbit would be an easy target to capture.  There was safety in numbers at this point in time.  And with Frodo being the Ring-bearer, the need to keep him close for protection was even greater.

Frodo had lagged behind on a few occasions due to his ankle protesting at the rapid pace of their travel.  Sam had paused and urged his master onwards as best he could, knowing that Frodo sought answers to many questions in his head.

"Are you alright, Mr Frodo?" Sam asked a third time in as many minutes, noting his master's grimace from his injured ankle.   What he failed to see was that Frodo had concealed both his hands under the folds of his cloak.  One hand still held the  'one ring'.  The other was now red and had a painful stinging sensation that he had noticed shortly after leaving the safety of the tree.

"Perfectly fine, Sam, thankyou," Frodo said with a smile to ease his friend's worry.  Strider saw from behind that the hobbit's step had become deliberate and slow,  indicating that travelling was taking all of Frodo's concentration.   He knew that any offer of carrying the injured hobbit would be frowned at immediately and refused.

A reassuring smile from the Ranger to Sam told the stout hobbit that he was watching for any signs that his master might falter.  With their unexpected escape through the denser parts of the forest, their route of travel had changed dramatically.  Although

they headed in this direction to seek sanctuary from one danger, there was no way of telling if there were any further ahead.

Sam seemed to relax a little at the Ranger's gesture, trying to hide his concern for Frodo, and directing some of his attention to his master's kin, who were equally afraid of the new surroundings.   Mr Merry had tried to hide his fear by telling a joke, but had stopped mid-sentence, the emphasis of the punch line being lost as the canopy grew darker and eerier.

"I think we have enough distance between us to slow down a little," Strider said to the group, still advising that they all needed to be vigilant.   Merry and Pippin were very glad to take heed of the Ranger's words and they slumped down on some moss-covered rocks almost as soon as the offer was made.   Running from evil or danger seemed to have a tiredness all of its own attached to it and a burden that none of them wished to bear any further than they must.

Sam handed out two of the water skins, but when it came to offering one to his master, he found that Frodo would not allow himself the luxury of sitting down and resting.  Too many thoughts plagued him, and the sound of the ring still echoed within his mind.

Frodo stood a few feet away from the group, and carefully opened the palm of his hand, revealing the ring.   Innocent and plain looking as it lay against his skin, but at the same time telling the hobbit of many hidden secrets and of a dark history that shrouded its true intentions.

Sam walked over to his master, careful not to startle him, but frowning at the confusion and fear that he saw so nakedly displayed on his friend's face.   Frodo's brow furrowed deep as he tried to recall what he had experienced under the tree.  He knew that there was very little benefit in telling Strider of what happened.   There were no words, only strange feelings that he doubted anyone else would understand.

"Frodo?" Sam said softly, growing more worried as his hazel eyes were met by the fearful blue ones of his master.  

"Yes, please, Sam," Frodo said, carefully covering the expression that Sam had clearly seen, "I would like a drink of water."  He put the ring back into the breast pocket of his vest, trying to put the whole incident behind him.   He couldn't deny the odd warmth on the palm of his hand where the ring had rested briefly.

"How much further do we need to travel today, Strider?" Frodo asked, attempting to focus his attention on the more pressing and current concerns.   He took a long, grateful drink from the water skin, but closed his eyes in a grimace as he drank, noting that the stinging sensation in his hand was steadily growing worse. 

The skin of his right hand felt a little warm, even though it was still wrapped with a corner of his cloak.   With the Ranger and Sam watching his every move at present, he was not able to steal a look at the hand to see what caused the discomfort.  He vaguely recalled something touching his hand a second before Sam had urged him to run.  

Without drawing too much attention to himself, he poured a small amount of water from the pouch as though spilling it accidentally.   He gave a small inward sigh of relief at the cool, wet fabric over his hand.  Frodo now quickly gave the skin back to Sam and apologized for his clumsy efforts and for wasting the precious contents.

"If you are able to, I would like to travel a few more miles today, Frodo.  Those that pursue us may have lost our trail for a time, and with any luck, we can stop them from following us any further.  Our new course may take a day or so longer to travel, but it will offer safety beneath the trees and provide protection from the heat of the day.

"I am quite able to continue, Strider," Frodo returned, a little sternness to his voice, not wanting to admit any weakness.   His cousins were in too much danger yet to consider his own well-being.    His ankle, although tender to walk upon, would hold up sufficiently until they found somewhere to rest for the night.   Somewhere they could enjoy a hot meal and forget about the events of the day with a tale or a song and some much needed sleep before continuing the journey onwards the following day.

"Do you know where we are?" Merry asked, not wanting to sound rude, but noting that they had weaved in and out of the trees for quite some distance since the roadway.  To get lost now would only prove to delay them further.  

Merry was under no misconceptions that Frodo was in some sort of danger and he aimed to protect his older cousin as best he could.   He had promised the same for Pippin, who, although afraid, might not fully understand the peril they were beginning to face.   Pippin had spoken briefly as they continued through the trees, but was in his subdued mood now sitting upon the rocks.

"Yes, Merry, I have travelled these areas around the Shire for many years before now.  Although the change in direction is regretful, for now, it is wise.   We still have a long way to go to Bree where we are to meet up with Gandalf.  I estimate that the change in our path may add as much as two or three days to the journey," Strider explained.

The group set out after the brief stop, the pace a little slower and allowing them to take in a few more landmarks, and gain a little more familiarity of the terrain as they walked.

True to his word, Strider called the group to stop for the evening after five miles.  The sky had already begun to grow darker, and they needed to make camp for the night and gather firewood before all remaining light was lost to them.

Merry and Pippin were assigned the task of collecting the wood, but were warned to stay within a twenty-metre radius of the campsite.  The growing shadows of early evening kept them to this promise, as the two hobbits were not wanting to leave each other's side or wander far from the light and the warmth of the fire.

Sam went about cooking a hot meal for all, and was grateful of the Ranger's hunting skills, as two plump rabbits were placed at his disposal.  Soon, an appetising aroma of stew permeated from the small cook pot, as Sam continued to stir and add seasoning as required.

Frodo sat with his back against a large tree, only a short distance from the fire.  A cool breeze seemed to blow through his clothes, though he couldn't be certain that it was the exterior elements that caused this.  It was becoming more and more difficult to conceal the injury to his hand and he could no longer deny that there was something wrong.

For the last five miles of their journey, his right hand had throbbed mercilessly, and there was now a definite heat present.  The skin felt tight and dry, though he had not yet dared to look at it for any length of time.  A brief glance as they walked had revealed two small white dots that were now raised and noticeable.  What had made such a mark, he couldn't be sure.

Aragorn had noted Frodo's discontentment before arriving at the campsite.  While he put most of it down to the appearance of the Ringwraith, there was something in the hobbit's eyes that caused him to believe there was an additional cause to the hobbit's withdrawn and sullen mood.

Perhaps Frodo's his ankle was still a source of pain, and it was that theory that led Strider to approach him.  "How is your ankle, Frodo?" he asked, bending down and gently feeling the exposed skin before the hobbit had a chance to voice any words of protest.

Merry and Pippin had returned with an armful of firewood each, and were now asking Sam if he needed any help, but were curiously looking over at Frodo and the Ranger to get a whisper of what was transpiring between them.

"It was a little tender before, but it seems a little better now, thank you," Frodo said, unable to stop a gasp of pain after he spoke.  Strider took the exclamation of pain to come as a result of his inspection of Frodo's ankle.  He briefly returned to his own pack to seek some medicinal herbs.

While Strider searched for the correct herbs, Sam thought it a prudent time to offer Frodo a meal.  Hopefully, under the Ranger's watchful eye, his master would eat, while his ankle was being tended to.

"Here you go, Mr Frodo," he said, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.  He held out the plate with a small serving of stew, hoping that Frodo wouldn't object to such a small helping.  There would be plenty more if he wanted it.  

Frodo had certainly not forgotten about the pain in his hand, but instinctively unwrapped his right hand from his cloak to take the plate from Sam.  It wasn't until he touched the surface of the plate that he recoiled, holding the hand against his chest and closing his eyes, waiting for the pain to abate a little.

Sam had heard his master's gasp of pain and saw him clutch his hand to his chest.  It was the first time that the sandy-haired hobbit had seen the swollen red hand and with a gasp of alarm of his own, he dropped the hot plate of food in the dirt as he reached out to try and help Frodo.

Frodo reclined his head back against the tree with his eyes closed, and therefore could no longer deny what his friends were seeing.  Merry and Pippin now stood behind Sam and looked just as worried at the sight of Frodo's hand.  None of them could remember him hurting it today, and he had not mentioned his discomfort to any of them.

"Mr Strider, come and look at this, quick!" Sam said urgently, but there was no need as the Ranger had sensed something wrong when Frodo had cried out.

Strider gestured for the other hobbits to stand aside a little to allow him a better look at Frodo.  His eyes remained closed, but he did not sleep.  He had heard the voices of concern and had somehow resolved himself to getting a tongue lashing for hiding his pain.  At the moment he didn't care;  he just wanted the stinging to stop. 

The Ranger knelt before the hobbit, taking in the pallor of his face and the slight sweatiness of his brow.   As carefully as he dared, he reached out with a gentle hand and tried to probe the cause of the swelling to Frodo's right hand.  The hand itself appeared very angry and red.  The skin was hot to the touch, but the heat was isolated to that area only.

Strider placed two fingertips near the two white raised marks and apologized deeply, as Frodo recoiled his hand away even more, trying to stop the examination by hiding it back underneath his cloak.   The ranger would have none of it, though, and he knew that whatever amount of pain was being caused now was for a good purpose.  He had to establish the cause of the swelling.

Merry and Pippin grew closer to their cousin's side, and with Sam on the other, all of them were whispering to Frodo that they were there to help him.  Sam held Frodo's left hand in his own as the Ranger continued making his diagnosis.  

"You have been bitten, Frodo," Strider stated, drawing a gasp from both Pippin and Sam.  Merry looked equally as concerned, but was also curious as to how the Ranger was able to detect that Frodo had been bitten.

"By what, Strider?" Merry asked.  Sam wasn't overly fond of bugs or crawling creatures, but was happy to let them exist in their own world so long as they didn't bother him.  Pippin, on the other hand, hated bugs and things that slithered about.   He had caused many a dramatic performance in Tuckborough when his fear became known to one of his older sisters.  She took no time in reminding him of that fear, on a weekly basis.

"Difficult to tell.  But it probably happened some hours ago, judging by the amount of swelling and the heat generated under the skin," Strider explained.  "It would have been easier to treat it as soon as Frodo noticed the inflammation and the pain."  Frodo didn't give any indication that he had heard any of the Ranger's words.

Strider knew there was no benefit to be gained in chastising the hobbit for his self-neglect.  He knew there were dark thoughts plaguing him.   He could also see the worry and distress of Frodo's kin and Sam.   "Sam, is there any hot water left from supper?"

"Aye, Mr Strider, some," Sam replied.  "What do you want with that?"

"Have a look in my pack over by the tree.  You will find some long strips of fabric that can be used as bandages.  Pour half hot water to cold into a basin and allow the bandages to soak in the tepid water," the Ranger explained.  "Pippin, I need you also to go to my pack and retrieve a small circular jar with a wax seal on it."

Strider couldn't be sure if Frodo was hearing his words or not, but he explained what was going to happen.  "I will rub a small amount of a soothing salve on your hand.  That should help take the heat away from the bite area and help counteract the stinging

sensation you are no doubt experiencing."

Frodo did open his eyes, lifting his head forward and trying to focus on what the Ranger was saying to him.   "And after that?" came the brief question in a whispered voice.

The Ranger smiled at having a partially awake audience.  He hoped that Frodo's hurts could be tended to, and then the hobbit could have a light supper before slipping into a healing slumber.

"I will add a healing herb to the warm water to be absorbed by the bandages.  They should also aid in the healing process.  By morning, you should suffer limited effects from the toxin that was used," Strider proceeded to answer.

Whilst the Ranger tended to Frodo's injured hand, Sam tried to keep Merry and Pippin occupied as best he could with helping to serve the stew.  Sam carefully washed Frodo's soiled plate, and then refilled it with a small amount of hot, nourishing stew.  He also split a small round loaf of crusty bread into smaller portions for each of them.

"That is helping immensely, Strider," Frodo said as he drew a long sigh at the cool ointment being gently massaged on and around the surface of his hand.  The heat underneath his hand was beginning to ease, allowing his own body's to do some of the healing work.  The bandages were soothing and cool, relieving the stinging sensation.

"You are most welcome, Frodo," Strider responded, relieved that the remedy was helping the hobbit.  "I hope in the future you will share your troubles with your companions."

The statement was to serve a dual purpose.  First, allow Frodo become more comfortable with the Ranger's healing abilities.  And  second, to act as a reminder that they needed to work as a team on this journey for the good of the entire group.

"I am sorry that I tried to keep it to myself," Frodo said with guilt colouring his cheeks a little.  Inwardly, Frodo was berating himself.  He would never expect Pippin or Merry to keep any hurts  or illnesses to themselves, and would give them a stern argument if they attempted to.

He was older and should be setting the example.  Pippin, he was quite sure, wouldn't hide any pain, but Merry was another matter entirely.  There were a few traits that the two cousins shared that others probably wished they didn't.  Merry could be quite secretive if he so chose to be.  

His eyes focused away from the Ranger, but his mind was still fully on the journey ahead.  "Evil hunts us, Strider; I can feel it," he whispered, so as Sam and the others would not hear.

Strider could have given a number of words in comfort or reassurance to the hobbit's mounting fear, but chose to show his protection in a more physical way.  He gently laid his hand on the hobbit's slender shoulder and squeezed, showing that he had both the strength to aid them and the will to see all of the hobbits safely to Bree.

Frodo gave a smile of gratitude and understanding of the man's actions, but as Strider walked away to join the others for a meal, his eyes drifted nervously into the darkened canopy of the trail they had covered that day.   Something _was _out there and it was coming for them.

"Here you are, Mr Frodo.  A new plate, nice and hot," Sam said, handing out the plate to his master for a second time that evening, this time a might bit cautious about his master's bandaged hand.

"Thank you, Sam," Frodo said, taking the plate.  He didn't really feel like eating, but the concentration of doing that took his mind away from his earlier worries.  Also, he could not have refused with the hopeful look upon his friend's face after taking such meticulous care to prepare the meal.

Frodo was genuinely surprised how much the hot food helped him.  It settled into his stomach well, and he felt a little contentment for the first time that day.  With the tiredness of walking all day, it didn't take long for his two younger cousins to fall asleep on their blankets.  He was grateful that they now slept close together, out of  both love and protectiveness in addition to keeping warm.

Sam had continued to do little unnecessary tasks around the campsite for a time, but even he had to admit in the end that he was needing sleep.  He was a little worried when Frodo didn't make any moves to try and sleep himself.  "Aren't you weary after such a long day, Mr Frodo?"

"Yes, I am, thank you, Sam.   I will sleep soon, please don't stay awake on my account.  You need to be well rested to continue our journey tomorrow," Frodo said, trying to quell his friend's concern.

Half an hour later, Sam had fallen asleep as he was curled up in his blanket.  Strider had taken watch over the sleeping hobbits, knowing his stamina and endurance were better suited to staying awake and alert for longer periods of time.

No matter how hard he tried, Frodo found himself unable to drift into more than a light doze.  The sounds of the forest were ever present and seemed to echo  through the still night.

Strider had shared a cup of tea with Frodo when he noticed the hobbit's resistance or reluctance to find rest, hoping that the tea would allow him to grow drowsy and settle down comfortably to sleep.  He knew the fears Frodo held this night and the apprehension he felt towards the journey ahead.

"Come, Frodo.  I will try and help you relax," Strider offered, gesturing for Frodo to move closer to the fire and sit beside him.  Frodo did so, glancing towards his companion hobbits and making sure that their slumber continued.

Making sure that Frodo was wrapped well in blankets and sitting close enough for the warm of the fire to be of benefit, the Ranger began to hum an Elvish tune he had learned in Rivendell many years ago.

The hum was in deep, low, soothing tones, and soft enough not to wake the other sleeping hobbits.  Frodo turned his face slightly and looked up Aragorn and smiled at the Ranger's attempts, knowing that he and his friends were truly in good and safe company.

Aragorn could see Frodo staring into the flames of the fire, but as the night grew shorter and shorter, the humming began to have the desired effect.  From his seated position near the hobbit, Strider noted that Frodo's eyes were beginning to droop.  He continued the humming until he was certain that sleep had finally triumphed.

Very gently, he guided Frodo into lying down on the blankets, fussing with the blankets once more and ensuring that the hobbit was warm enough.   He was careful not to touch the injured, bandaged hand, and was pleased to note that Frodo had made no  gasps or winces of pain within the last couple of hours.  Hopefully, the balm he had applied in addition to the herb-soaked fabric would ease the pain and allow undisturbed rest.

When Sam awoke three hours later, being the first of the hobbits that morning, he looked around for a moment, concerned when he didn't see Frodo still sleeping nearby.  He got to his feet and turned to look at Strider and smiled as he saw the blanketed bundle beside the dying embers.

Strider put his finger to his lips, but got to his feet and approached Sam to talk to him in a whisper.  "Your master did not fall sleep until the very early hours of the morning.  Let him sleep until breakfast is ready and we have to be moving again.  Today will be quite long."

Sam nodded his head in acknowledgement, but was worried that Frodo had not been able to fall asleep despite his fatigue.  Merry and Pippin soon began to stir and were told of Frodo's restless night.  They kept their talk to whispers and helped Sam in preparing breakfast and readying to resume their walk.

"I think we need some more firewood," Sam said as he noted only a small amount of kindling left.  Strider had supplied the fire with the majority of the larger branches during the night to keep it burning and supplying warmth to himself and Frodo.

"I will go, Sam," Merry offered, seeing that Strider was speaking to Pippin and taking the time to explain why something was done a certain way.  Pippin seemed to thrive in the Ranger's company and drink in any amount of tuition or demonstration that was given on how to do things for himself.

With Sam attending to breakfast, Frodo still sleeping deeply beside the fire, and Pippin and Strider engaged in conversation, Merry saw the opportunity to slip out of the camp without being noticed.

Sam fussed over breakfast as well as Frodo, stopping in between stirrings of his pots, to make sure that the blankets were still wrapped securely around his master.  He was glad to see Frodo's features poised in sleep.  The dark-haired hobbit had yet to utter a sound or even stir so far that morning.

Pippin was walking towards the fire when he saw Sam's administrations.  He couldn't help but have a joke at the gardener's expense.   "Sam, will you stop your incessant fussing over him.  He is not even awake yet," the younger hobbit admonished playfully.

"I was just making sure he was warm enough, Mr Pippin.  Won't do Mr Frodo any good to get a chill out here in the forest," Sam said as he tried to brush away the comments about fussing too much.   He knew that he did do so, but he wouldn't have it any other way. 

Sam didn't care what others thought about how he looked after his friend and master, but he knew Pippin well enough to know that he was merely having a laugh.  Pippin had been known to become a little worried over Frodo in the past as well.  Hobbits cared for each other, whether friend or family and that's how it should always be.

The light-heartedness of the morning was soon forgotten, though, as a loud rustling sound could be heard from some bushes on the outskirts of the camping area.  Strider was immediately on his feet at the noise, and it had been loud enough for Sam and Pippin

to gather to each other and around Frodo.

Strider stood in front of the hobbits, as Sam woke his master.  They couldn't wait any longer when it may become necessary for them to flee at a moment's notice.  Frodo looked about with a sleepy expression on his face until the sound came again, making him jump to his feet.  

"What is making that sound, Strider?" Pippin asked in a whispered voice.  Frodo gripped tightly to the youngest hobbit's tunic in case his fear made him run in the wrong direction.  If Frodo was to run, he would make certain that his cousins and Sam were there with him.

"Hush, Pip," Frodo chided him softly.  "Strider will tell us what it was when the danger has passed."  The tension in the air was high, and all failed to note that one member of their travelling party was currently missing.

"Show yourself or feel the bite of my blade," the Ranger said in a deep voice, trying to induce power, in addition to fear, in the unseen intruder.

Any further words died upon Strider's lips as the figure in the bushes came forth and stood in front of them for all to see.  The hobbits also wore a startled expression, scarcely able to fathom what they were seeing.

Walking very slowly, not wanting to cause the Ranger to take any unnecessary action, a very meek and humble figure of Merry emerged from the bushes.  In his hands he had an armful of firewood, which he dutifully placed on the ground before him to indicate what kind of mischief he had been involved in.   

Merry stood before his friends for a moment longer, waiting for someone to speak.  He looked down at his waistcoat and nervously tugged a stray tuft of grass from the fabric.  He didn't think he had done anything to draw any attention to himself, but the expressions on the faces of the Ranger and his kin said otherwise.

Pippin was the first to recover from the shock and hide his embarrassment with an angry reproach for his older cousin.  "Meriadoc Brandybuck!  What do you think you are doing?"

"I was collecting firewood, just like I told you I was going to do, Peregrin Took," Merry responded, not liking the use of his full name.  That was reserved for his parents, and usually indicated that he was in deep trouble.

Strider grinned as he sheathed his sword, thinking that they had all jumped to conclusions at hearing a rustle in the bushes.  They had let their fear resurface and their imaginations to run away a little.   If it was not for the evil that still lurked within the forest, it would

have been most comical.

"You did give us quite a scare, Merry," Frodo said in a gentle voice, placing his hand on his cousin's shoulder to show that all was forgiven.  Sam nodded his head in agreement, but chose to hide his mistake by gathering the bundle of wood at Merry's feet and taking it back to the fire to finish preparing breakfast.

With morning already upon them and the sun rising in the distant horizon, the forest began to change colour once again, allowing small pockets of warmth and light to emerge through the thickets and leaves.  The travellers shared breakfast and enjoyed a hot beverage before gathering the last of their belongings together, ready to begin what would be a long day of walking ahead.

After a few hours, the temperature beneath the canopy was warm and a little humid.  The hobbits were thankful for the shade offered by the trees overhead, and drank often from their water skins.  Occasionally, they went so far as to pour some of the cool liquid over the backs of their necks.

By mid-afternoon, the clouds were beginning to gather closer together, and took on an ominous look.  Strider had been watching them carefully for about an hour when he decided that shelter was of immediate priority.  His instincts spoke of a storm brewing, and he would prefer the sanctuary of a cave before the rain started falling and wind blowing through the trees.

The hobbits had chattered contently along the walk so far that day, showing little signs of fear from the previous day.  No doubt the memory of the Black Rider had not gone away completely, just diminished significantly, allowing them to conquer their fear and continue the journey.

The canopy was beginning to grow thicker and more dense now, and the skies grew darker, as the storm began to approach with more speed than Strider had first thought.  He would need to voice his concerns to the hobbits to warn them of the impending storm so that they would not be frightened if the skies began to thunder.

"Frodo," Strider said, pausing slightly and letting the four hobbits gather so that they may all hear the warning at the same time.  "The skies are darkening, and I feel a storm building.  We must find shelter or a cave and quickly if we are to save ourselves

from being soaked by the rain."

"Strider, but there isn't any rocks or shelter anywhere near here," Sam remarked, looking about them and seeing nothing but trees.   Nobody had yet to see the change in Frodo.  As they discussed what to do, the moist, damp air from the forest rose to meet that much higher up in the atmosphere, feeding the storm.

"I know, Sam, and if we cannot find any cave soon, then we may be forced to camp beneath the largest of the trees to prevent us getting drenched," the Ranger said.   He was not prepared for the reaction that this statement would invoke from Frodo.

"Isn't there another way of staying out of the storm?" Frodo asked, and all the time he spoke, he was unaware that he had taken a number of retreating steps away from his companions.  He could feel their eyes upon him, perplexed at his question, picking at the edges of the bandage covering his hand in nervousness.

"I am afraid not. Frodo, but do not worry; the storm will soon pass.   The trees will provide quite a good source of shelter if that is all that is to be found," Strider said, seeing that the hobbit was a little more distressed than he should be about the suggestion of sheltering under trees.

"We have to find a cave like you said, Strider," Frodo said with haste.  His words seemed to spill from his mouth all at once, as he tried to quell the growing unease he felt.  "We cannot stay underneath the trees, Merry," he added, looking directly at his cousin as he spoke.  

"We will find a cave, Frodo," Merry assured his cousin, feeling the inquisitive stares from the other hobbits at why he made such a promise.  Merry was the only person who knew of Frodo's nightmare so many years ago at Brandy Hall.   He had not breathed a word to another soul in all this time, not even to Pippin.

With time against them Strider decided it best to get the hobbits moving again rather than try and ease Frodo's fears.  He would talk to the hobbit once they were out of the storm.  As they started to walk again, though, it became obvious that luck was not altogether in their favour as a loud crack of thunder rippled across the sky.

Frodo walked, at first trailing behind a little, until another crack of thunder drove him to seek safety amongst his companions.  He huddled into his cloak as best he could whilst still walking, keeping his head bowed slightly.  Occasionally, he would glance towards the trees that they passed, only to shudder again as the thunder continued to roll overhead.

With a burst of lightening and a crack of thunder, the skies opened up and the rain began falling steadily.  The hobbits were trying to remain as dry as possible underneath their cloaks as they sought shelter, but their feet soon found the ground sodden and slippery as puddles began to form from the excess water lying on the forest floor.

The storm was now loud, and any conversation between the companions was drowned out by the thunder and the wind howling through the trees.  Strider declared that they would not find a cave before the storm ended, and that they needed to stop and keep as

dry as possible underneath the trees.  Some of the larger trees would prove of benefit.

Frodo, however, was not prepared to co-operate at all with the Ranger's suggestion.  In fact, he outright refused, protesting strongly as he shouted through the storm.

"We cannot stay here, Strider," the hobbit shouted, his hair slick from the rain and plastered to his pale face.  No matter how much Sam tried, Frodo would not be calmed or comforted.  The more the storm raged on, the more distressed the dark-haired hobbit became.

"Frodo, we have little choice.  I wish for better lodgings as well, but the trees offer the best protection at the moment," the Ranger tried to reason.  He saw a look on Frodo's face that he had yet to witness.  Outright terror.  It was a different fear from that of the Black Rider, but what fuelled such fear he couldn't tell.

Strider could sense from Frodo's shouting that the hobbit was beyond conversation and that any negotiation would prove fruitless.  His fear was too great and seemed to intensify with every clap of thunder and gust of wind that blew. 

The Ranger went to grasp Frodo's hand, seeing his muddy footsteps retreating once again.  He couldn't afford for any of the hobbits to run in this storm.  They might be injured as a result of their flight, or at the very least become separated and lost from the group.

Frodo, though, struggled and writhed in the Ranger's gentle grip, sensing that the Ranger wanted him to do something that he mind was not willing to.  Strider was forced to make his grip a little firmer, as Frodo pulled with more strength than he thought normal for fear of a storm.

"Frodo, calm down, I am not going to hurt you," Strider shouted over the storm, but not releasing his hand from the hobbit.  Something was frightening him quite badly.

"No,  you don't understand," Frodo yelled back, still attempting to wrench free.  They couldn't stay underneath the trees.  They just couldn't.  He needed to make them see the danger that they remained unaware of.

"Strider, he is too frightened.  You need to find a cave or other shelter away from the trees," Merry shouted to the Ranger.  "We will keep him here until you return."

Not wanting to leave the hobbits on their own, but knowing there was very little choice, Strider reluctantly nodded his head.  He spoke to Sam and Merry while Pippin tried his best to reassure Frodo that things would be alright.  Without further hesitation, the Ranger ran of into the rain, seeking temporary accommodations for the night, away from the trees.

Luck would fall his way a little, discovering a large enough cavern in a rock formation only a short distance ahead.  It had remained unseen to them because of the denseness of the forest.   The rock was black and shiny, most likely slate.   The cave he found had a large opening, and was situated a few feet off the ground. 

Retracing his steps, Strider went back to find the hobbits much as he had left them.  By now, their clothing was thoroughly soaked, but what worried the Ranger the most was the agitation in Frodo that was still present and had not diminished during his brief departure. 

Sam was trying his best to offer reassurance, as were Frodo's cousins, but the normally gentle hobbit was past comprehension and driven only by adrenaline and fear.  The other hobbits were having difficulty in persuading him not to flee from their current location with the sound of the thunder and the sight of the lightening overhead speaking louder than their words.

"I have found shelter.  Come, it is not far," Strider announced. 

"Did you hear that, Mr Frodo?  Shelter at last," a weary Sam declared with excitement, hoping the news would be welcomed by his master.

Exhaustion from the day pulled at Frodo's senses, his legs not willing to obey the command to walk with his companions.  Instead, they shouted to him to run like never before in another direction, telling him that he would not be safe until he was far away from the trees.  

Before Frodo had a chance to act on his mind's demands, the Ranger swiftly picked up the distressed hobbit and made haste towards the cavern.   He was dismayed to find the hobbit shivering in his arms.  He did not know if it was caused by the cold rain and damp clothes or the fear that had resulted in such a change in the normally timid, and calm hobbit.

Sam went about starting a fire, though with nothing but soggy kindling about, it would take some effort.  The wet wood created a lot of smoke to begin with, but eventually a small fire was beginning to warm the inside of the cavern.

Pippin and Merry searched through the packs, looking for useful things and some food.  Sam had already put a small pot of water on to boil for tea.  Pippin had found a pouch of aromatic leaves in Frodo's pack, and was able to tell from the pungent smell that he had found tea leaves.

The cavern was partitioned slightly by a large wall of granite, creating a second smaller space towards the rear of the cave.  This, the companions decided, would prove a good sleeping quarters, away from the draughtiness of the front entrance, and provide protection should anything approach the cave.

In this smaller section of cave that Strider now settled Frodo into.  Merry had searched through the packs and removed the top layers of wet blankets.  Much to their relief, the ones further down had been spared from the rain, and were perfectly dry and warm.  

Frodo sat where the Ranger placed him on the cave floor, his thoughts taking him back to another time that he did not wish to remember.  He barely felt Merry's coercion to get him out of his wet clothes and into the dry ones.  He did not resist as he had done with Strider in the forest, all of his energy now spent.

Strider watched the hobbit for a few moments with curiosity etched on his brow.  Frodo seemed to be wringing and rubbing at his wrists continuously as if he was trying to remove something from them.  There was nothing to be seen on his skin that Strider noted.   The bandages on his hand were a little damp from the rain, but covered only his hand, and should not prove to be an irritant to his wrists.  He didn't want to upset the hobbit further by trying to enquire why he was doing it.

As soon as the tea was ready, Sam brought a steaming cup to his master, hoping that the warm liquid would do much for Frodo's melancholy and dampened spirit.  Coaxing him slowly and whispering comforting words that the forest was no longer a threat, Sam managed to encourage him to drink about half of the hot tea.

Usually, Frodo found great comfort in something as simple as a hot cup of tea.   He had always told Sam that there wasn't anything complicated in a cup of tea.  It had the ability to warm you on the inside and make you forget any mishaps from the day.  But today, when comfort and reassurance were needed in abundance, it seemed to do little.

Frodo didn't even seem to notice everyone's concern for him, as his mind drifted back in time.  His eyes grew tired and his body longed for rest after a long day.  He reclined back against the dry blankets and allowed his eyes to drift close, hoping that sleep would invade and prevent the memories from coming back.  

Sam and the others soon changed out of their own wet clothes, and tried their best to lay them out, hoping that they would dry.  They sipped at their own tea around the small fire, listening to the howling wind outside, and stealing occasional glances to the where Frodo appeared to be sleeping.

Strider joined the hobbits by the fire, but kept an alert presence towards the front of the cave, still wary that there was evil present in the forest outside.  The rain and the storm should be beneficial in deterring anything from approaching the hobbits this night.

"I suppose you all wonder what happened out there today," Merry said, breaking the silence around the fire.  He sipped at his hot drink again, looking back at the small flames that flickered, lost in his own thoughts for a moment.

"With Frodo, you mean?" Pippin asked, not able to drum up any enthusiasm for learning what had caused such sudden and visible distress to his older cousin.  "One minute he seemed fine; the next he was like a caged animal, trying to escape," he added, trying to find the right words to describe Frodo's reaction.

"But there was no sign of the Black Riders in that storm.  What would he be trying to flee from?" Sam asked, not knowing why his master was so afraid.

Merry sighed a little, knowing that he would need to take his time and explain the full story if they were to truly understand.  "What I am about to tell you must not be repeated outside this group," he began.

"You do not have to explain anything if you have pledged a pact with Frodo," Strider said.

"No pact as such, at least not one that was spoken about between us," Merry responded.  "But one that I rather made with myself to never to speak of what Frodo went through back then."  He gave a wan smile to Pippin, knowing how it must have sounded to keep a secret from someone who you had shared everything with up until now.

"Back then?" Sam asked with confusion in his voice.  "You mean before Mr Frodo came to Hobbiton?" he asked, trying to ascertain the time frame.

"Yes, Sam, when Frodo was still living at Brandy Hall after the death of his parents," Merry answered.  "I didn't find out what happened until a few weeks after it happened.  But after he agreed to tell me, I swore that I wouldn't bring up the subject again.  The memories of that night remained for him a long time afterwards and I know he still hasn't forgotten it completely."

"You see, Strider, the way Frodo was acting today about not wanting to stay under the trees when you suggested it would be considered very normal after going through the torment that he did," Merry explained.

As the wind continued to swirl around the trees outside the cave, the conversation focused on Merry, and he began to give a full account of the version of events all those years ago at Brandy Hall.

"Let me ask you a question first, Sam," Merry said, changing the pace slightly.  "Did Uncle Bilbo ever talk to you about Frodo's fear of storms when he was living at Bag End?"

Sam pondered the question for a moment before answering.  "I don't recall him saying anything as simple as that, Mr Merry.   I was quite young myself when Mr Frodo came to live with Master Bilbo.   There was one time when a storm was brewing in the afternoon.   Mr Frodo seemed a little uneasy and agitated, but nothing like how he was today."

"And what did Bilbo say?" Merry encouraged, nodding his head in acknowledgement of Sam's description.

"The storm was quite a way off, as I think back now, and Master Bilbo didn't think it would reach Bag End until nightfall.  But Mr Frodo thought otherwise, and locked himself away in his room for the rest of the afternoon.  He didn't even want to come into the kitchen to eat supper," Sam continued.

"Frodo was about 15 when it happened.   The summer had been quite hot at Brandy Hall, and I remember my father saying that we were headed for a bad season of storms.  Not even a week would pass before one would approach from the west, causing thunder and lightening for hours," Merry stated.

"After his parents passed away, Frodo found it difficult to fit in with most of the other children at Brandy Hall.  At least that's what my father says.  I can remember him telling me that it took Frodo quite a long time to try and mix with the other children.  When he did so, they thought him brooding and sullen for their liking."

"There were three boys from the Hall that Frodo tried to avoid.  They were much bigger than him, probably about the same age as Lotho Sackville-Baggins.   Frodo was much smaller, and timid towards them.  They often picked on him for no reason because he didn't fight back."

"What did these three boys do to Mr Frodo?" Sam said, feeling his anger rise a little at the though of his master being picked on, especially after losing both his parents.  It must have been a very lonely time for him. 

"I am getting to that, Sam," Merry replied.  "One day, a storm was brewing, but it was still around lunch time, and it wouldn't come to Brandy Hall until supper time.  Frodo told my father that he was going to take a long walk, but should be back within two hours.  My father didn't see any reason why he shouldn't go and didn't stop him from going."

"Those three boys must have seen Frodo begin his walk and decided to follow him, probably just to taunt and tease him.  They must have taken some rope from the shed without permission, too."

Sam's heart skipped a beat at the idea of these boys having rope in their hands.  With their only intentions being to seek out his master and taunt him, he knew that they must have been up to no good without hearing any more of the tale.

"Frodo began to walk through the wooded forest that lies on the outskirts of Brandy Hall.  Usually it is restricted to the younger children, but seeing as he was older now, he was able to roam where he pleased so long as he told someone where he was going."

"Exactly what happened that afternoon, I am not sure, except for the parts that Frodo eventually told me.  I still think there are things that he didn't tell me or didn't want me to hear about what they did to him that day.  The storm came over the forest a lot quicker than first thought, and Frodo was about to begin walking back to the Hall."

"Those three older boys used the rope to tie Frodo to one of the larger trees in the forest.  He must have tried to call out for help, but with him being in the forest, nobody at Brandy Hall heard his pleas to help.  They lashed both wrists to the lower boughs of the tree.  They left his feet untied, but the rope was too, tight and he couldn't get free."

"Those animals!" Sam declared hotly, but then fell silent, slightly embarrassed by his outburst.  He looked towards his master and felt anger again at hearing him being bound helpless to a tree.

"Did they beat Frodo up?" Pippin asked hurriedly, not wanting to think of his cousin, bruised and bleeding and still restrained by rope.  

"Some yes.  There were many bruises on his chest and stomach area when he was found.  He must have fought hard to get free, but Frodo was outnumbered three to one, and they were so much bigger than him.   There were hand marks on his upper arms where they must have held onto him really tightly to get the rope tied around his wrists."

"Poor Frodo," Pippin whispered, thinking how cruelly his cousin had been treated.

Strider's thoughts drifted back to earlier when he had seen Frodo rubbing at his wrists when there appeared to be nothing present to irritate the skin.   Obviously, in his mind, the hobbit had returned to that time when those older boys had forcibly restrained him against the tree.   His sub-conscious was making him feel as if the course rope was still bound around his wrists.

"That's not the worst of it, Pip," Merry said with sadness in his voice.  The next part would be even harder for Frodo's companions to hear.

Strider looked at Merry with surprise on his face.  How could it possibly get worse for Frodo?   Pippin looked a little pale whilst Sam just looked shocked.  They were all finding it difficult to hear such a harrowing tale of nastiness directed towards an undeserving friend.

"After they tied him there, they went back to Brandy Hall, leaving him tied against the tree with the storm approaching overhead."

"You mean they just left him like that, with no chance of escape?" Sam said, his anger bristling once more, as he thought about what animals these older boys had been.

"Yes, Sam, they did.  Frodo must have called out for help for many hours because after they brought him back to Brandy Hall, his throat was red and raw.  He couldn't talk above a whisper for almost a week."

"The storm struck about midnight.  By that time, my father and other adults at Brandy Hall did notice Frodo's absence.  Questions were asked whether or not anybody had seen him return from his walk.  No one admitted seeing him.  The three boys responsible  were not present at dinner that night, no doubt hiding with their shame."

"So Frodo would have been out in the miserable storm all night?" Pippin asked, feeling a little sick that he never knew about any of these horrible acts that had happened to his cousin.  "He must have been terribly scared and wet."

"Yes, I am sure he was terrified which is why he reacted the way he did today.  Too many bad memories.  We tried to search for him that night, but were not able to due to the storm.  I tried to plead with my father that Frodo was out in the forest lost somewhere, but he said that he couldn't risk anybody else getting lost until the storm has passed."

"Early the next morning, the search began.  I was forced to stay behind with my mother and wait for news that they had found him.  When they did find Frodo, the tree that he had been tied to had been blown over in the storm.  My father said they found Frodo still lashed to the tree, laying on his side.  Thankfully, the tree had fallen at such an angle so that it did not to crush him."

"I can't believe another hobbit would do something like that to one of his own kind," Sam commented.  Strider nodded his head in agreement.  In all the years he had been watching and protecting the Shire, he had never known such cowardly acts being carried out. 

"I will never forget how I felt when I saw Frodo as he lay in my father's arms when they came back to Brandy Hall.   I never want to see a relative or friend of mine like that again.  He was almost invisible due to the amount of blankets they had him wrapped up in.  His skin was so white from the cold and his clothes were sodden and muddy."

"There were many whispering throughout the Hall that night that he might not make it through the night.  A healer was sought immediately, and even he gave a gasp at seeing Frodo for the first time.  His wrists were chafed where the rope had rubbed too deeply and where he had tried to pull at his bonds."

"He survived the night, as you can see.  Otherwise he wouldn't be here with us tonight.  But he was so very sick for a long time afterwards.  Most likely from being out in the cold all night and from laying on the wet ground.  His lungs became congested very

quickly and because of his ordeal, he didn't have the strength to overcome the symptoms.  He developed pneumonia and had to fight for every breath he drew for almost three weeks."

"I tried to sit with him a few times when his fever was so high.   But if he recognized me, he didn't show it.  He lay about languidly, and his face was sweaty and flushed with fever.  After that my mother didn't want me getting too upset and said that I shouldn't visit until Frodo was beginning to improve."

"I guess that's why Master Bilbo was so concerned about Mr Frodo going outside without a coat when it was starting to get a bit chilly," Sam interjected.  "I remember him having to remind Mr Frodo when I was out in the garden with my Gaffer."

"After the pneumonia, Frodo was always prone to getting sick, Sam.  Even now we should make sure that he never gets too chilled or wet.  His lungs are considerably weaker from the pneumonia," Merry said.

"I will make sure that if we have sufficient shelter next time a storm should approach," Strider commented,  "so that Frodo will not have to remember such bad times."

"Thank you, Strider," Merry said.  The telling of the tale was taking its toll on his own usual chirpy outlook.  That night, it would take him quite a while to settle down to sleep, as he relived memories of his own from that time.

The others kept thinking back to the tale that Merry had given as well.  They were promising themselves that they would never openly reveal their knowledge of what had happened when Frodo was around.

Each of them would check on the sleeping Frodo during the night, and Sam made sure he was the closest of all, not wanting to leave his master unprotected or alone.

The story Merry had shared made him focus on certain things that had happened in the past back in the Shire.  When an expression on Frodo's face might have been deemed out of place.  Thinking back know and adding in Merry's explanation, he understood why it was so for the first time.

With each passing day, it seemed that he and the other companions were seeing Frodo in new and different ways.  That this usually shy, gentle-hobbit, had a complicated story and past.  That his quiet and calm nature came from triumphs and tragedies in his life that his friends were only beginning to learn about.

Whether it be from the exhaustion from the previous day or the sound of the still gentle rain outside, Frodo slept soundly that night, perhaps better than he had on the journey so far, save for the memories.  When dawn's early light appeared through the trees, the skies were still a little heavy with cloud.

Strider informed the other hobbits to allow Frodo to sleep as long as he needed that morning.  Although their journey was pressing, he erred on the side of caution with the little folk.  A quicker and more demanding pace might see them increase the number of miles they may travel in a day, but it certainly would see the hobbits tire easily, and not be able to keep to such a strenuous pace.

The Ranger planned to allow the hobbits to rest as much as possible until midday.  They would only travel for half a day today, and then a full one the next.  He would be able to gather some fresh meat from the forest during the morning hours and they could enjoy a hot meal for lunch.

The cavern provided good enough shelter from the elements outside, and allowed them to stay warm and dry whilst the steady misting drizzle continued.  Strider had been able to restock the firewood before the hobbits awoke.  It was still a little damp, but would serve their purposes well enough for the day.

Strider had been sitting near the entrance of the cave, looking out at the forest of trees beyond, when he heard one of the hobbits coughing.  It wasn't a harsh cough, but being followed by two sneezes, he could tell they came from Frodo. 

The wet clothes from the night before and the cold wind had given the hobbit the beginnings of a cold.   His earlier decision to remain within the warmth for the majority of the day might have been premature but the right choice after listening to Frodo.

Sam appeared at his master's side with a cup of water in hand that Frodo accepted gratefully.  He looked about the cavern for a moment, not certain of how he had gotten here, but thankful for the warmth his blanket provided.   He did not know how he came to be wearing a dry set of clothes, but guessed that his cousins or Sam had seen to his comfort.

"Where are we, Sam?" Frodo asked simply, as he handed back the empty cup.  "I remember there was a storm," he added.  Then he tried to go back and recall exactly what had happened.

"It was raining very hard, Mr Frodo, and the wind wouldn't stop.  Strider found us this cave, and I, for one am glad.  I was so pleased to get out of them wet clothes last night and warm myself by the fire a bit.  Come and sit there now, Mr Frodo, and I will see to some breakfast for you."

Frodo didn't have the heart to tell Sam that food was the last thing on his mind, but stood and walked the few metres to the fire.  Merry and Pippin greeted him enthusiastically enough, teasing him lightly about sleeping later than everyone else.  

"Are you feeling well this morning, Frodo?" Strider asked as he tried to assess the hobbit from the short distance that separated them.  "We do not need to leave until lunchtime today, and if the rain persists, we may need to stay a further night."

Frodo nodded his head in acknowledgement, secretly thanking the Ranger for making their journey as easy as possible without forgetting the nature of their task.   He took a cup of tea from Sam, as it was offered, sitting silently regarding his cousins, as they chattered happily between each other.

With his cousins preoccupied and Sam still tending to breakfast, Frodo took the opportunity to talk quietly with Strider.  He wrapped the blanket around his shoulders a little more, and then joined the Ranger near the entrance to the cave.

He remembered small parts about what had happened the night before.  Whilst he didn't know the full details, and Sam was reluctant to retell them for fear of upsetting him, Frodo sensed that he had been at the very least unco-operative the night before.

"Please accept my apologies, Strider.  I did not mean to cause things to become difficult this early into our journey," Frodo said.  The hobbit knew that somehow the Ranger had come to learn something about his fear of storms.  How much or how little remained a mystery.

"You have nothing to apologize for, Frodo." Strider reassured him.  "There will be things that test us all on this journey.  Whether it be from those who pursue us or ghosts from our pasts." 

For the next hour of so, Frodo and Strider seemed content enough to enjoy each other's silent company.  They indulged in a smoke each with their long pipes, and exchanged a few words at various intervals.  Sam kept busying himself about the cave as much as possible, not wanting to intrude on any discussions Strider and his master might be having.

As the day wore on, it soon became apparent to all that the rain would rain consistently for most of the day and into the evening again.  They would not travel today.  The problem with this arrangement was two young, usually mischievous and active hobbits who each were brimming with energy, but with no way of using it.

Sam tried to get them into some games he knew younger hobbits could play to pass the time.  But Merry and Pippin soon became bored with these.  He was about to turn to Frodo and ask for assistance in helping his cousins behave.  Sam was not normally one to get angry easily, but with what they had been through already and the worry he still carried for Frodo, the frustration was becoming increasingly difficult to mask on his face.

Frodo seemed to notice Sam's distress first, though, and intervened as the older member of the family.  Aragorn and Sam watched over with playful smiles on their faces, content enough for Frodo to take control of the situation, and win over his cousins with a most ingenious method.  By now, one might have been tempted to raise their voice in anger at the two younger hobbits and berate them for acting like small children.

Frodo took a different approach, one that worked just as well, but had all the subtlety of his nature.  Instead of raising his voice, which Merry and Pippin both knew he was capable of doing, he did the opposite and tried to invoke a little sympathy and compassion of them towards himself.

"Lads, could you please do me a favour?" Frodo began, standing so that his posture was slightly awkward and tired-looking.  His lowered his head to his chest a little as he spoke, allowing his hair to fall into his eyes, making his complexion underneath a little paler.

Merry and Pippin had been grappling over who had possession of a mushroom, neither willing to give ground enough to share the delightful morsel.  Upon hearing Frodo's tired-sounding question, they both turned to face their cousin and immediately took on the look of shame for their bickering to have seemingly caused their cousin to need to speak to them. 

"What is it, Frodo?  Name it, and we will do it.  We have nothing else to do right now," Pippin asked for the both of them.

"I just wanted to ask if you would like to help Sam with lunch.  He might appreciate you preparing some of the potatoes he has, and chopping some of the other ingredients.  I am feeling a little chilled after being wet last night and would like to sit by the fire," Frodo answered. 

Aragorn marvelled at Frodo's ability and prowess.  The hobbit should be an advisor to those of a hall.  He seemed to be able to manipulate those around him by using methods other than force or firmness.  "He has those two right where he wants them," he whispered to Sam without the two younger hobbits seeing or  hearing him.

Sam nodded his head in agreement.  "The master at work, I would say," he offered in return with a smirk.   Frodo's idea worked well, as his cousins forgot about the mushroom entirely and rallied to aid their cousin.

"Come, Frodo.  You should be sitting down and taking it easy after getting so wet last night in the storm," Merry announced, grasping a sleeve and his cousin's arm and leading him over to the blankets around the fire.  After making sure that Frodo was settled enough, he and Pippin approached Sam to see what needed doing for lunch.

"What do you need us to do, Sam?" Pippin asked with enthusiasm.   Merry's expression was similar, as he was wanting to please Frodo, and help out as much as possible.  Neither of them realised that they were now working as a team and had ceased their bickering, making the cave a lot quieter.

"Mr Merry, if you would like to help chop some of the vegetables, Mr Pippin, I could use you to help stir the stew," Sam said, not wanting to deny them helping.  "First, though, since Mr Frodo is talking of feeling chilled, we might boil a fresh pot of water and make a nice cup of tea."

"I'll get the water," Merry offered, knowing that he merely had to hold up the pot underneath the steady downpour outside to satisfy their needs.

"Mr Pippin, if you look in my backpack, you will see a small pouch of Mr Frodo's favourite tea.  Chamomile, nice and gentle and just the thing for warming him up inside."

Pippin went to Sam's backpack as instructed, and felt around for the small pouch that the stout hobbit had spoken about.   There were a few other pouches, but mostly they contained pungent powdered herbs and spices.   He was about to exclaim out loud in triumph when he found one that smelt of chamomile tea.

His exuberance was quickly thwarted, though, as he withdrew the pouch and noted only a few sparse leaves.  The pouch was empty, and the few scattered leaves that remained would barely colour the water for tea.  "Sam, this pouch is empty," he pouted, holding it up for Sam to inspect it.

"Pippin, there is some tea in a bag in my backpack over by the wall there.  Take as much as Sam requires.  I can replenish both his and my stocks once we reach Bree in a day or two," Strider intervened to the young hobbit.

A noise just on the outskirts of the forest drew Strider's attention for a moment.  He turned his head towards the direction of the noise and waited with strike readiness in case its source became a threat to the hobbits.

Sam was busy stirring the strips of rabbit into the stew, and Merry was preoccupied with the vegetables.  Neither they or anyone else present noticed the deadly mistake that the younger, inexperienced hobbit was about to make.

Pippin had scurried over to Strider's bag.   He had almost shouted back to the Ranger to ask which pouch it was again, but seeing the Ranger distracted for a moment and edging towards the mouth of the cave, he chose not to disturb his concentration.  Besides, he knew what tea leaves looked like, he told himself, reaching into the backpack.

Pippin frowned, though, as he found not one, but many pouches of herbs and other extracts.  The Ranger carried more than Sam did.  Some of the bags were of cloth and had small string ties around the top to keep the contents sealed from air and contamination.  Other bags were made of more course material.  It was one of these that Pippin searched for Frodo's tea.

There were small labels stitched every so finely to each of the pouches.  Pippin handled them carefully, not wanting to mar the fabric or to needlessly spill the contents.  The only problem was that the label was scribed in a language he could not read. 

Perhaps Frodo would know what was inside, Pippin said to himself.  He gave a brief glance over his shoulder towards his older cousin, noting that Frodo had his eyes closed and seemed to be resting as was suggested.  No, he didn't feel right disturbing Frodo.  Once again he repeated with affirmation that he would be able to distinguish tea leaves when he saw them.

Using two small fingers, he untied the knot that secured the string around the top of one bag.  By inserting his index finger into the small space created, he was able to pry the pouch open enough to examine the contents.  He now brought the bag closer to his nose and sniffed at the escaping scent.

He frowned a little when there wasn't very much aroma present.  Shouldn't tea leaves have a more pungent smell that this, Pippin asked himself.   He had always loved the smell of Bilbo's kitchen in winter because of the warm atmosphere that came from freshly brewed tea.

At least he had managed to choose a pouch that contained leaves, he noted, daring to shake a small amount into the open palm of his hand.   The leaves were small and black, like tea leaves.  They were dried and gave a slight crinkly sound as he ran the tip of his fingers through them to turn them over and inspect them further.

"Sure looks like tea," he murmured.  He was satisfied that he had found what he sought and pleased that he had not had to go through any more of Aragorn's pouches to find it.

Sam was still busy with the stew and checking on his master.  He had just gotten up from the fire to wrap a blanket more securely around Frodo when Pippin bent over the boiling pot of water on the fire.   His hand still contained the small amount of leaves that he had shaken from the pouch.

"How much should I put in, Sam?" Pippin asked, thinking it had not been often that we was called upon to make such a beverage over an open fire.

"About half a teaspoon, I would say, Mr Pippin," Sam said, still keeping his attention on Frodo and the blanket rather than on what Pippin was doing.   "Mr Frodo doesn't like his tea especially strong, and we have to use it sparingly until we reach Bree, seeing as how we are now using Mr Strider's own personal stocks."

Pippin opened his hand and tried to judge if the amount was correct.   It didn't look quite like half a teaspoon, but he heeded Sam's words, and decided against using more.  Merry had just come back to the fire in time to see Pippin sprinkle the leaves

in his hand over the surface of the hot water. 

"Alright there, Pip?" he asked casually, not detecting that his cousin had chosen the wrong leaves for making the tea.  "Tea almost ready, then?" he asked further. 

Usually he would not have said he enjoyed a cup of tea.  Not as much as Frodo, anyway.  But with the rain still delaying them and the wind causing the cave to become draughty and cold, he thought it might help warm him a little.  Of course, he would wait until Frodo had a cup and the others, too.

"In a few moments, Merry," Pippin announced, pleased with himself that he was able to be helping his companions in a small way.   Being from a socially higher family in the Shire, Pippin was often excluded from learning basic skills.  There had always been someone else to do such things for him.  Pippin felt a sense of pride that he was able to complete such a routine task on his own. 

Sam now came back to the fire and the stew, giving it a few more stirs.  He pulled out a small box of salt from his backpack and placed two pinches into the stew before stirring again.  Pippin had been watching with curiosity, seeing if Sam's methods were any different from his own.  

"The tea is ready, Sam," Pip said, as the stout hobbit ladled a healthy portion into a few small bowls.  The mixture was hot and the steam rose upwards towards the roof the cave, permeating the air with a delicious, earthy aroma.

"Did you find out what the noise was, Strider?" Merry addressed the Ranger as he came back inside the cave.  He still wore an alertness, though, that told the hobbits that he had not.  

"No, but we are safe for now," Strider said, seeing the apprehension that the hobbits sensed from him.  "Come, let us share a hot meal," he added, sitting down opposite to Frodo and accepting a bowl of stew from Sam as it was offered to him.

"I have poured the tea, but it is a little hot, so let it cool a moment," Sam warned, placing mugs of hot tea before them all.  The first cup was for Frodo.  Sam tested the sides, noting they were still too hot. 

"Here you go, Mr Frodo.  A nice cup of tea for you to warm you on the inside," Sam said with a smile.   "Won't you have something to eat, too?" he asked with hopefulness.

Although his eyes were closed and he may have appeared asleep, Frodo responded to Sam's question about eating.  "No thank you, Sam.  I will gladly take tea.   I am sure the stew is very good, but I will pass until later."

Sam knew that when his master mentioned about eating later, it wouldn't actually happen.  But right at the moment, he didn't think that Frodo was in danger of fading before his eyes.  He would just have to keep vigilant and make sure that his master did eat regularly. 

Strider chatted quietly with Merry and Pippin whilst they ate.  Briefly, they all forgot about the tea waiting to cool.   All except Frodo.   Sam sat near him around the fire, but had turned his head towards the younger hobbits, listening to the quiet conversation with the Ranger.

Frodo opened his eyes and looked at the mug of tea that Sam had left to cool.   Unwrapping his arms from underneath the blanket he reached for it, noting that the temperature was considerably cooler now.  Probably due to the cool air being directed through the cave entrance.

Slowly, Frodo began sipping at the tea, noticing that it was a little more weaker than normal, but not wanting to outwardly complain.   There was an aftertaste on his tongue that he couldn't quite describe.  He took a few more mouthfuls of the tea, hoping that he could wash it down.   He winced slightly though as the bitterness only seemed to become stronger.  He placed the tea mug aside, only having drunk about half of the liquid. 

"Anything wrong, cousin?" Merry asked good-naturedly, as he saw Frodo put the mug aside but then screw his face up as though he wasn't finding it to his liking.  He had not seen Frodo abandon a cup of tea too many times before.   Pippin must not have done it right, he thought to himself, recalling Pippin being the one to sprinkle the tea leaves into the water, as he had walked over to the fire.

"I am sorry, but that tea was just so bitter," Frodo said, closing his eyes and swallowing hard, trying to get ride of the aftertaste.  He opened them again, but the taste was still acrid.   "Sam, whatever did you do to that tea?" he asked, unable to hide his dislike.

"I didn't make the tea, Mr Frodo, Master Pippin did," Sam said, but his explanation did not progress any further as he stopped to  observe how many shades paler his master had suddenly become.

"Sorry, Frodo, but it was my first time making it.  I wasn't sure how much to put in," Pippin apologized, feeling deflated that he had not pleased his cousin.

"Don't worry, lad, I am sure that with Sam's guidance you will become a better brewer," Frodo said, trying to get to his feet.   Problem was, though, that his limbs were becoming increasingly heavy.  When he finally did find his feet, they were unsteady and

unco-ordinated.

Frodo had to use an outstretched arm to flail about and find the cave wall he knew he had been leaning against.  His hand felt the cold, black stone, but then he began to sway, his mind becoming dizzy.  "S-Sam, I ………" he managed to say before his knees gave way.

"Mr Frodo!" Sam shouted in alarm, reaching out as he saw his master sway and then collapse.  Merry and Pippin were quickly on his side, knocking over plates of stew and cups of tea in their haste.

Strider leapt to Frodo's aid and helped Sam catch the hobbit before he could fall completely to the ground.  He noted how lethargic Frodo appeared and how disconcerted he seemed about his surroundings. 

Frodo was still conscious, but his eyes were closed and his face pale.  He tried to look up at his worried friends, but his head felt incredibly heavy also, and his eyelids began drifting closed.  His posture sagged a little more against Sam, as he fought to remain sitting up.

"What is wrong with him?" Sam asked, as he gently rubbed at Frodo's hand for a response from his master.

"I do not know, but it struck him so suddenly," the Ranger said.   Frodo had merely been relaxing by the fire and within a few minutes had become very ill.  He had not eaten any of the food yet.  Only sipped at the cup of tea Sam had provided.  It was at that moment that he got a notion of what might have happened.

With lightening quick reflexes, Strider snatched Frodo's still half-filled tea mug from nearby and sniffed the tea.  He didn't know what he smelt, but it most definitely wasn't tea.

Sam still held Frodo firmly, so Strider was able to release his hold and snare another hobbit just as quickly.  They mustn't waste a moment.  "Pippin, show me which pouch you got from my backpack," he asked the hobbit.  His grip was a little tighter than intended for the small hobbit.

"But I couldn't have………," Pippin protested, as his eyes filled with tears that he might have caused Frodo to become sick.  He released himself from the Ranger's grip and stumbled over to the backpack, looking for the bag he had held.  The weight of guilt at what he might have done already too foreboding.

Pippin held out the small brownish pouch, with the adorning label that he had not been able to read.  His hand was shaking and his knees trembling, as he was desperate to know what substance he had mistaken for tea.  Merry came to stand with him and wrapped a supporting arm around his younger cousin, knowing that it had been a mistake.

Strider could see the guilt on the young hobbit's face.  "I will speak of this later, but for now, you have to help me with Frodo," he said firmly to the two.  They both nodded quickly, wanting to do anything they could to rectify the damage that had already been caused.

"These leaves comes from a plant that is used as a powder sleeping drug, not tea leaves.  How much did you put into the water?" Strider asked, looking back at Frodo, who was now leaning very heavily against Sam, his body not able to remain upright.   The symptoms were all there;  lethargy, drowsiness, lack of response, tiredness and heaviness in the muscles of the limbs.

"I asked Sam and he said half a teaspoon full, but I didn't have that much in my hand at the time.  I only shook what I had in my hand into the water," Pippin declared, no longer able to hide back the tears.  "Oh, please forgive me, Frodo."

"I am grateful you did not, Master Pippin, for half a teaspoon of these leaves would have proved very costly to your older cousin.  It might have been fatal," Strider said, not wanting to overly scare them, neither wanting to hide the truth of what an overdose might do to one much smaller than a man.

"Fatal?!," Sam gasped, as he was on the verge of tears himself.  He still tried to get his master to hear his voice and open his eyes.   Frodo tried his best to comply, but the power of herb was overwhelming.  He just wanted to sleep.  "But what can we do for him then, Mr Strider?"

"There is much that we can do, Samwise," Strider declared, knowing that time was not on their side.  He quickly walked back over to Frodo and took him from Sam's grasp, pulling him inside a standing position, but still keeping a supporting arm around the hobbit's waist to preventing him collapsing again.

"Firstly, I need a few moments to prepare another drink that will help him expel the overdose in the tea.  But I cannot allow him to fall asleep while I complete that task. Merry and Pippin, you must both take Frodo and help him to walk around this cave as much as possible.  The movement will hopefully keep him awake long enough for me to prepare the other medicine to counteract the sedative.

Merry and Pippin quickly mustered on either side of their older cousin's side.  Frodo seemed confused at why they were making him stand up when all he wanted to do was lay down and sleep.  They each took am arm and supported his slight weight evenly between them.

"N-no, d-don't want to s-stand," Frodo protested weakly, his voice barely above a whisper.  He made vain attempts to brush his cousins away, but lacked the energy to even lift his arm high enough to do so.

"Sam, I need you here to help me, and then I will need you further to administer the concoction to Frodo," Strider instructed.  By the sound of the word 'concoction' Sam could only guess that his master was going to be none too pleased about whatever the remedy was going to be.

"Strider, he is barely able to stand, let alone walk," Merry said, as he and Pippin pushed and pulled a resisting Frodo about the confided walls of the cave as best they could.  Frodo's head drooped towards his chest and he made no attempt to lift it.  His words of resistance were mumbled and incoherent when they were  spoken.

The Ranger fought the desire to let the disoriented hobbit have his way and go back to sleep.  He knew that allowing Frodo to do so could very well mean him going into a coma, which might result in death.

"But walk he must, Merry.  To prevent as much of the overdose as possible being absorbed into his stomach," Strider warned them.  "I know it is difficult, but you must try as long as you can.   This experience will be none to pleasant for any of us, and less so for Frodo once I have this medicine prepared."

"Why are you doing this to me? I want to sleep," Frodo pleaded in a thick voice, and this time tears started to fall from his eyes. He felt as though he was in some strange nightmare that he couldn't release himself from. His mind a hazy blur and his body begging him to lie down, Frodo fell into Merry's arms.

Merry nodded at Strider's warning and turned his attention back to Frodo just in time to see his cousin begin to limply fall to the ground in search of rest.  Strengthening his grip on Frodo's shoulder and around his middle, he kept the other hobbit upright, in a sense; but for how much longer he could last, he couldn't tell.  Even the mumbling had ceased, and Frodo appeared almost spent on his feet.

"Sam, see if you can help them further," Strider said, as he watched the two hobbits struggle to keep Frodo walking and moving.  Sam didn't need any further convincing, was on his feet at once, and assisting now, he took Pippin's place in helping support his master.

"Pippin, could you please fetch me a large bowl," Strider instructed the hobbit, seeing he had been relieved by Sam.  "I need a few wash clothes, some fresh water and some of those blankets we dried by the fire earlier," he added, giving a list of what they were going to need.

Merry and Sam were managing as best they could to keep Frodo moving, and were now headed towards the back of the cave.  Frodo was like a dead weight in their hands and was unable to help with the walking.   

"Mr Frodo, no," Sam said, as he saw his master begin to sink to the ground once more.   He wished there was more he could do.  All his poor master wanted to do was sleep, but even rest was denied him at the moment while the overdose of the herb remained in his system.

"It is alright Sam.  Let him sit on the floor.  For what we are going to have to do now, it is best that it be done as far away from the eating and sleeping quarters as this cavern will permit," Strider said, as he approached the three hobbits.  Pippin was coming with water and blankets as was asked.   He laid them near Strider and waited for him to reveal the way they were going to help Frodo.

"It is not his fault, Sam, nor yours.  That sedative is used on men twice his size, and they are not able to stay awake under its influence either.  The fact that you and Merry have been able to keep him from falling into a dangerously deep sleep until now is an achievement to you both," Strider reassured the sandy-haired hobbit.

"What do you have there?" Sam asked, his curiosity quirked by the presence of the mug but more so by the dark black appearance of the liquid inside.  How were they going to encourage Mr Frodo to drink any of it when they couldn't get him to respond?

"A most unpleasant mixture, I can assure you.  Frodo will be none too thankful about my method to help him.  But this is the most  effective way for him to be rid of the overdose.  Some of it will have already been absorbed by his system, but what has not can be rejected," Strider explained.

"You mean that stuff will deliberately make him sick and throw up?" Merry asked, wrinkling his face at having to use such harsh methods on Frodo.  He had thought Strider was preparing a medicine he could merely drink, and would cure him.

"That is the idea.  I need you to hold the bowl.  Sam, you will need to support Frodo, for once he begins to comprehend what is happening, he will be most unco-operative and displeased with us.  Pippin, I may need you to help Merry or Sam, and hand me a damp cloth when the time calls for it."

Sam blanched a little at the thought of his master having to endure more punishment than he already had.   His master's face was pale, and although his eyes still fluttered open every now and then, the flickering was becoming more stagnant and infrequent.  It wouldn't be long before Frodo would lose the battle with the sedative altogether.

"Frodo?  Frodo?" Strider said, as he gently tapped the side of the hobbit's face.  His attempts brought a slight response, and he could see half-lidded blue eyes gazing back at him, but barely able to heed what was being said to him.  "That's it, Frodo, you're doing well. I need you to stay awake a little longer.  For as long as you can. And I also need you to take this medicine."

A brief nod came from Frodo, indicating that he had heard part of the instructions given.  He allowed Strider to bring the cup to his mouth and began to sip slowly at the dark contents.

"You are doing well, Frodo," Strider encouraged, the other hobbits not daring to say a word to their ill friend as they were able to detect the foul smell of the medicine being forced upon him.  "Just a bit more now," he added, not able to tell how much of the mixture Frodo had consumed.   It would not take very much to work.

For the first few sips, the taste and smell of the medicine had yet to register with Frodo.  His tongue was thick, and for a few moments, it was unable to detect the liquid trickling down his throat.  But then the consistency of the mixture and the taste hit him all at once, causing to gag on the small amount still in his mouth.

Frodo pulled his mouth away from the rim of the cup and turned his face away.  "What in the world are you………," he began to say when he became aware of a cramping and tightening within his stomach.   He stopped talking altogether and his eyes opened fully as he realised what was about to happen.

"Oh, oh………….," Frodo stammered, as Merry placed the bowl beneath his cousin's grimaced face.    For the next few moments, they all could only watch with sympathy and compassion as Frodo vomited over and over into the bowl, expelling the tea and the black mixture that he had drunk.

When the vomiting appeared to have ceased, Frodo sagged against Sam's shoulder, scarcely able to form a word of protest at the treatment that was being afforded to him.  He didn't know why they were doing this to him, but he wanted to tell them all to leave him alone.

Pippin handed Strider a damped cloth upon signal, and the Ranger gently wiped the hobbit's face.  A fresh cloth was used on his face, but the hobbit was still too pale, and beginning to tremble from the exertion.

Just when they thought Frodo would throw up no more, the cramping and tightening of his stomach muscles persisted once more.  With nothing left in his stomach to bring up, the hobbit retched painfully and horribly until he had not an ounce of  strength left.  It was Sam who made sure that his head was held well above the rim of the basin.  

Strider helped take Frodo from Sam, clearly seeing that it was difficult to for them all so see Frodo in such anguish and misery.   "Sam, take them over to the fire and allow them to rest.  I will attend to Frodo," he whispered softly.

Sam nodded his head, knowing that Strider would take the very best care of his master.  Frodo remained still and silent, Sam could only hope that his master would be well again after Strider's unusual medicine.  He rubbed Frodo's cold hands with his own, hoping that Frodo would respond long enough for him to ask for their forgiveness for how they were treating him.

Merry, together with much of Sam's help, guided Pippin back to the fire.  The youngest of the hobbits was drowning in his own guilt and couldn't seem to bring himself to believe that Frodo would forgive him for such a mistake.  He thought the same from the other companions, but upon looking up at Merry and Sam, he saw only empathy and soothing words to his ears.

Sam seated Merry against the wall where Frodo had been sitting, using the blankets that were still warm from the fire.  Pippin sat beside him and lay his head on his cousin's lap, tears still falling down his face.  Merry looked pale and concerned about Frodo, but gave whatever comfort he could muster to Pippin, who was finding it difficult to cope.  Merry gently rubbed the tweenager's back in a circular pattern feeling the tension that was present in the small shoulder blades.

Sam mistakenly went to ask Merry if he would like a cup of tea to help calm himself or Pippin, but immediately berated himself for such a remark.  Merry shrunk away from the idea of ever using a tea mug again, and Sam quickly covered his erred words by taking the pot of poisoned tea to discard the contents and scrub it clean.

In the small partitioned area of the cave, deemed for sleeping quarters, Strider lay a sleeping Frodo down on the beds that Sam had already prepared earlier to pass the time.  The blankets were a little cooler than the ones by the fire, but they would soon suit just fine.  He knelt beside Frodo, and felt the hobbit's pulse. It was weaker than usual, but regular now.

Frodo's hands felt slightly chilled still to the Ranger, as he did his best to make the hobbit comfortable.  He was relieved when passing his hand over the parted lips he felt the slow steady warm breath tickle his palm.  There was very little he could do now that the nastiness of making Frodo sick had been carried out.

Strider was hopeful that the majority of the overdose was now expelled, and that it was only the lingering effects that caused Frodo's sleep to be so deep.  He would keep a very close vigil over him tonight to make sure there were no further complications from either the overdose or the herb ingested to cause vomiting.

Strider trickled a little fresh but warm water down the unconscious hobbit's throat, pleased to see the muscles work.  He did this in slow sips to avoid Frodo choking, hoping that the temperature of the water would not shock the hobbit enough to startle him.

With all of the blankets now dry, there were plenty for use, and Strider draped a second one around Frodo's shoulders before leaving him sleep.  Apart from the victim, there were some other hobbits nearby that demanded attention as well even though they

might not admit to it. 

Sam had been sitting with his chin resting on his knees, waiting for news.  He had twice attempted to help, and had been gently pushed back towards the other two hobbits and to making sure that they were cared for.  It was also so that Strider could work alone.

"Is he alright?" Sam blurted out, unable to contain the question for more than a second.

"He is sleeping very deeply now, and he is warm," Strider informed them, looking towards Merry and Pippin as he spoke.  He could see they had recovered a little from had happened, but were still anxious and edgy for confirmation that no harm had befallen their cousin.

"I thought that sleeping was dangerous?" Merry asked, remembering that that was exactly what Strider hadn't wanted Frodo to do when they had discovered the contaminated tea.   Pippin had been on the verge of falling asleep, but upon hearing Strider's footsteps and the question from Merry, he was alert enough to be part of the conversation.

"Yes, initially, but it was unavoidable, given the nature of the herb that was induced.  Let me take the time to explain," the Ranger said, seeing the pleading eyes from Pippin, who was desperate to understand the nature of what he had done by mistake.

"The plant you found in my pack, Pippin, is a very old genus, only found in certain ancient forests.  It grows quickly, and only produces seeds once a year.  The root itself is of very limited benefit, but the leaves, either consumed dried, fresh or crushed into a pulp, contain a very concentrated sedative," the Ranger began.

"We were unlucky that Pippin chose the wrong pouch, but fortunate that he was unskilled enough only to sprinkle a few leaves into the water and not more.  A full leaf for hobbit-sized person would probably prove fatal or at least cause the victim to fall into a coma," Strider continued.

"How can you say that anything I did was fortunate?" Pippin asked with his eyes downcast.  "I was so foolish and ready to prove how adept I was that I almost cost Frodo his life."

"I am to blame as much as you, Pippin, for it was me that instructed you to go to my backpack in the first place.  I should have inspected which bag you chose or at least aided you in reading the labels.  They are written in Elvish," Strider said

to ease the young hobbit's guilt.

"Yes, I noticed that, too," Pippin said quietly, not fully believing that Strider could blame himself for the error. 

Strider might have asked Pippin to go to the bag, but it was not the Ranger that would have thought himself beyond needing assistance or advice in reading the foreign symbols to identify the contents.  And it was not Strider who had deemed himself able to distinguish between tea leaves and those of a sedating plant.

"Do you wish to learn, Master Pippin?" Strider asked simply.  He needed a way to prevent such a mistake from being made in the future, but also to help Pippin with his sense of belonging with the group.  A task would need to be found that the hobbit could apply himself to both physically and mentally.

"Learn what?  Do you mean about herbs and plants?" Pippin asked, a little surprised at the generous offer.  "Unfortunately, I am not like Sam, and not able to tell them apart at all, it would seem."

"All the more reason for you to learn and be instructed properly, my dear hobbit," Strider said with a smile.  "I had to learn as well, and I was instructed by one of the most learned, Lord Elrond of Rivendell."

Pippin considered this statement carefully for a moment.  He and the other hobbits had become accustomed to Strider's many talents and skills as a Ranger.  That included the use and knowledge of herbs, and he had not thought that such skill had to be first acquired and learned and then practiced and refined.

"You would teach me?" he asked humbly, but with a small smile on his face. He knew that Strider would not make such an offer to just anyone.  Upon reflection he added something further,  "What would you teach me?"

"Herbs and plants.  I could show you the medicinal uses of many and the beneficial and harmful effects they can have on men and hobbits.  Sam, I know, would be kind enough to instruct you for the culinary uses as well.  Many edible herbs and plants are also used in cookery.  That is mostly how their medicinal usage was first discovered.

"Do you think I could learn, Strider?" Pippin asked, his mood becoming more animated as he thought about what he would learn.  

Many people concerned him unteachable.  Some of the school instructors in Tuckborough had even been so bold as to suggest to his father, Paladin, that he needed independent tutorage.  They never realised that with careful guidance in the right direction, the young Took would flourish in any chosen subject.  He wasn't a simpleton and Frodo had often defended him against others for that very reason.

"I am sure you will make an excellent student, Pippin," Strider said with a small laugh, noting that Pippin's excitement about his newfound interest.  If you don't, then I will be forced to voice my grieves to your older cousin."

Pippin's smile faded a little at the mention of his cousin once more.  "Is he really going to be alright? he asked.  He looked towards where he could see Frodo's sleeping form on the blankets, almost hidden from view from the partitioning wall of rock.

"The herbs did send him to sleep, and no doubt it will last many hours because of Frodo's slight build, but he should wake with very few ill effects.  With the benefits of  resting for the remainder of this day and tonight, we should be able to travel in the morning.  Although this cave provides shelter from the weather, I do not wish us to linger here any longer than we must."

"What will he say when he learns the truth, Strider?" Pippin asked softly the one question that he had wanted to ask most of all.  He looked over at Merry and Sam, trying to guess if they were judging him as well.

"A mistake can be made by anyone of us, Pippin," Strider stated.  "Frodo will not think less of you or think that you need punishment unjustly."

The three hobbits and the Ranger shared a simple meal that evening and talked quietly, but the conversation never really settled on one particular subject of serious discussion.  Strider excused himself frequently from their company to check on Frodo. Sam remained with his master whilst allowing Strider to eat his own meal without disruption.

The hobbits took to their beds gratefully that night, a little apprehensive in the knowledge that the journey was to begin once again in the morning.  Strider kept his vigil over them all, but especially over Frodo.  The hobbit never felt any of the Ranger's administrations or stirred at any stage.  He slept cocooned between his two cousins and Sam, in the very safest company.

The dawning of a new day was a welcome sight to Strider, as the sunlight began to peek through the trees and filter a few feet into the cave.   The air was damp with moisture from the night before, but the temperature was mild and the clouds were now floating away with the breeze.

Merry, Sam and Pippin had been up rather early, preparing to leave as soon as Frodo woke and was deemed well enough to travel.    Strider now went to gently wake the dark-haired hobbit to see how he felt.   It was now two hours after the sun had begun to rise.

Frodo reluctantly opened his eyes as Strider gently shook his shoulder.  He waited until the hobbit gained his bearings a little more before asking him about his health.  The hobbit opened his mouth slightly and his tongue licked at his parched lips as he slowly opened his eyes. His vision was blurred a little by the overdose, but was still good enough for him to make out the slow forming features of the man sitting near him.

"Welcome back, sleepyhead," Strider whispered and let his hand fall to the hobbit's cheek. Frodo's face scrunched into a grimace, and his left hand came up out of his covers to rub at the back of his groggy head. He still didn't speak, only a groan coming up out of his dry throat.

Strider provided a cup of water, which the hobbit drank from.  He took in what he wanted and let his head fall back to the pillow behind him created by his travelling cloak. 

It was after that that Strider saw the Frodo's lips form a scowl.  He smiled to himself, though as he watched a mix of emotions play out on the pale face, the blue eyes playing witness to them all and emphasising each expression.

At first, there was clearly confusion about the time that had been lost from his last conscious and coherent thought until now.   Frodo frowned and tried to think when that had been.  The confusion gave way to a grimace, probably the result of some lingering stiffness in his limbs from the sedative.

Frodo now sensed a new, stranger feeling in his body.  Not pain nor an ache that he could lay name to.  Rather, there was an uncomfortable sensation in his stomach.  And then all at once, he seemed to recall being violently ill over and over again because of something he had been forced to drink.

He looked up to see Strider regarding him curiously, and he remembered that it had been him that had made him drink such a concoction.  The reason for such harsh treatment was escaping him entirely.

The normally placid blue eyes darkened a few shades, and the frown deepened, as a look of accusation crossed over his handsome features.  Strider's smile widened as he recognized an annoyed hobbit when he saw one.

"How do you feel?" the Ranger asked, but figured Frodo was fixing to tell him soon anyway. He knew an angered Baggins when he saw one.

"How do I feel?" Frodo shot back, sarcasm coating his words.   "Well, my stomach is killing me, my throat hurts, and I think I have pneumonia. Does that answer the question good enough?"

Sam, Merry and Pippin appeared behind Strider just in time to hear the controlled anger in Frodo's voice.   Each of them winced, knowing that it was not usual to see  the gentlehobbit addressing another person in such a way.          

Pippin was the first to break through and fall at Frodo's feet, imploring forgiveness and hugging his pale cousin fiercely.  "Oh, Frodo, I am so glad to see you awake.  Please, please forgive me cousin.  I had no right meddling in things I did not understand."

Frodo was a little surprised at the reaction his words had caused in his youngest cousin.  The annoyance he had felt had quickly departed as he hugged Pippin back, concerned at the tears that he could see falling down the youngster's face.

"Hush now, Pip, I am not that cross with anyone," Frodo said, running his hand through the wayward, straw-coloured curls.  He now searched the faces of his companions for an explanation for why Pippin was in such a distressed state, and why he felt so odd and uncomfortable this morning.

"Pippin made a mistake in choosing the leaves for that tea you drank yesterday," Strider began the story.  "The leaves from were a very potent sedative.   We needed to make you walk around to try and counteract its effects.   We did not know how much you had consumed, and were fearful that you might fall into deep enough sleep that you may never have awoken from."

Frodo eyes widened at such a statement, and then he realised that Pippin must have been blaming himself and feeling very badly about what he had done.   "Is that why I still feel so nauseous?" he asked gingerly, noting that the cramping was still present, but had improved with the small amount of water he had drunk.

"It was necessary to ensure that your system did not absorb anymore of the herb and I administered a thick black liquid from a crushed-up root.  It is used to cause vomiting.  I apologize for such harsh methods being used without your consent, but they were necessary at the time.   You should be feeling a lot better now than you were and should suffer no ill effects," Strider explained.

Remorse for his unsavoury comments upon waking now grew within Frodo, and he needed to make an apology.  "I am sorry for my lack of tact when speaking with you a few minutes ago, Strider," he stated. He felt bad about giving the Ranger such a hard time about what he had done to keep him awake.

Strider reached over and squeezed his hand.  "I took no offence at your words, Frodo. I know it was a very awful experience for you. I am sure I would have thought the same things if I had been subjected to such remedies."

With all matters sorted and Frodo feeling a little more like himself, Merry and Sam took it upon themselves to show their cousin and master with more fussing before announcing that breakfast was to be shared by all.    

Frodo looked at Pippin, and knew that there were still some unresolved matters to help the tweenager come to believe that there was trust between them.  He thought for a moment about what had happened and what would be needed to rectify the situation.  Then an idea came to him.

"Sam, if you wouldn't mind, I would like you to boil some water for my tea," he said, watching Pippin's face as he spoke.  The young hobbit cast his eyes down to the floor, as he thought that Frodo wouldn't want him helping again anytime soon.

"Of course, Mr Frodo," Sam said, a little surprised that Frodo would be asking for tea again so soon.  "I will make it right away."

"No, Sam, I don't want you to make it.  I just ask that you put the water on to boil.  I would like Pippin to make the tea this morning," Frodo said, a smile creeping over his face as he watched his young cousin's face light up with eagerness.

"You mean you want me to make your tea?" Pippin asked, scarcely able to believe that Frodo had such faith in him.  "Even after what happened?" he added, desperately wanting to believe that he had been forgiven.

"Even after what happened," Frodo said honestly, taking Pip's hands in his own and giving them a squeeze for reassurance.   This simple gesture wasn't enough for Pippin and he returned it with a second hug around his cousin, unable to show his relief and gratitude any other way.

"Oh, Frodo, thank you, thank you!  I won't disappoint you again.  I promise," Pippin declared, and then hurried off, even taking over Sam's assigned task of filling the pot with water to boil.

Strider, Sam and Merry all smiled at Frodo, as they realised that he had just given Pippin a very generous gift indeed.  He had taught Pippin that mistakes could be made and forgiven.  A very clever hobbit, they thought to themselves, and the very best friend to accept that the tweenager needed guidance, not distrust or punishment.

Strider reminded them all that once they had eaten, they would need to be starting their walking again soon.  Frodo stood with caution and noted a little unsteadiness in his step, but there was no dizziness, and his muscles had lost their heavy feeling.

Sam and Pippin hadn't realised that they were holding their breaths as they watched for any signs that Frodo might falter in his step.  They waited until it appeared that he was alright that they allowed themselves to exhale slowly in relief.

Halfway through breakfast, with everyone watching each mouthful of food or liquid that he consumed, Frodo broke the slight tension around the fire by enquiring about the day of walking ahead.

"Which route will we travel today, Strider?" Frodo asked, pleased to see the interest in what he was doing diverted for a moment and focused on the Ranger.  

"The forest is our best course at the moment, Frodo.   We can use it to keep ourselves shaded as we walk, and it will also conceal us from any dangers that might prevent itself.   We will follow the river as it meanders towards Bree," Strider answered.

Frodo tried to map out the area in his mind for a moment to recall which river they would follow.  "The Brandywine River," he said with a lump forming in his throat at the mention of that particular waterway.

Merry had almost announced the name at the same moment as his cousin, the "Brandywine River."  Merry had fond memories of the river, but as he exchanged looks with Frodo, he knew that there were ghosts about it that his cousin would rather leave alone.

"Is there no other way, Strider?" Frodo found himself asking in a whisper, unable to hide his apprehension at the prospect of coming face to face with the very place that had stolen the lives of his parents so many years away.

"We have very little other paths through the forest, Frodo.  Does this present a problem to you?" Strider asked gently, noting a nervousness that had only appeared at the mention of the river.  It wasn't quite the fear and terror that he had displayed when suggested having to shelter beneath a tree during a storm.

"N-no, that route will be f-fine," Frodo said with as much courage as he could manage.  But those around him could see him struggle to keep from revealing his true thoughts.  His expressive blue eyes were darkening and holding secrets that he had longed to suppress.

Once the group was packed and ready to travel, Strider took a moment's opportunity to pull Merry aside, and Sam was wanting to hear what was being said.  Pippin, on his part, was certain that he already knew the reason behind Frodo's reluctance at going near the Brandywine River.

"Why does the river present as an obstacle for Frodo?" the Ranger asked, knowing that it might prove vital to know that if their path became more perilous.

"The Brandywine River is where Frodo's parents, Drogo and Primula, were drowned when he was 12 years old.   Frodo has never ventured very close to it since unless absolutely necessary."

Strider watched Frodo who had walked a few metres away from the others.   He had already been informed about the hobbit's unfortunate orphanage at a young age, but Bilbo had not wanted to go into further detail to avoid upsetting the lad.

Sam couldn't help but feel a silent chill work its way up his spine as he straightened the pack on his back and hurried to catch up with his master and continue their journey towards Bree.

TO BE CONTINUED

Responses to Reviews:

**_Kat...aka...chickloveslotr_****  - So glad you are liking the story – I definitely intend on continuing it.   Please keep reading.******

**_Iorhael – _**Sorry, a little more hurt Frodo in this one – can't help myself.  They have started the journey, but it will be a long and different road.   Please keep letting me know you're enjoying.

**_lovethosehobbits – _**I am so glad you are thoroughly enjoying the story and grateful that you have taken the time to review.  There will be lots of weavings between canon, the movies and my own ideas.  The new scenes will begin to become more and more frequent now that I have started the journey.  And to have you say that I am adding to the story that is already created makes my heart swell, for I wish to take nothing away from the wonderful J.R.R. Tolkien.

For anyone else that reviewed I truly appreciate every one of them.  And to those who sent private reviews I thank you also that you took the time to do so.  

**Author Notes: **A new chapter and a new leg in the journey towards Bree.  I apologize for the length of time since the last update, but my writing time has been severely limited.  This chapter was quite complicated in content, and took a little while to get exactly how I wanted it.

For all the Pippin fans out there, please know that I intended no extensive harm to come to him from the herb overdose.  I needed somehow for Frodo to consume the overdose, and the tea, and Pippin's naïve mistake were the concepts that I used.  

The entire herb overdose scene is thanks to a writer of incredible talent, my friend Wrangler.   The story is from a different fandom, and the overdose in her story was sleeping powders deliberately put in coffee to cause the death of the unsuspecting victim.   I adapted it for this chapter.  Wrangler, your story, 'Requiem' gave me so much inspiration, and I humbly thank you for being able to use one idea from your wonderful writing. 

I envisage this story to have a further two chapters before it will close and the epic saga continue with the story "A Spy in Rivendell".   These two chapters will be quite lengthy, though, with much to happen with our travellers approaching the Brandywine River and Bree, and then going onto Weathertop.

There have been quite a couple of people to thank for their insight and patience with this chapter.  They are humbly revered for the great deeds that they do, and I thank them for keeping up the enthusiasm so far, and having the ability to see where these stories are headed.

Please read and review and let me know if you are enjoying this story or not.

Now the journey turns another page and will soon continue ………………..

JULES


	11. The Brandywine River

ESCAPE THE DARKNESS

**By JULES**

**Authors Notes – **This story explores the idea about what might have happened if Strider had come to the Shire to forewarn Bilbo Baggins about the Ring Wraiths that would soon come hunting for the One Ring. Commences a few days before Bilbo's Birthday party and before Gandalf returns to the shire as well.

Strider had vows to protect Bilbo when the Ring Wraiths are sent by the Dark Lord but he is unaware that the legacy of who is to carry the Ring to be destroyed falls upon a totally different Baggins hobbit.

**Disclaimer - I** do not own any of these characters but enjoy writing them and their adventures together.

**The ****Brandywine****River******

Author's Notes: **_In this chapter, there will be scenes drawn from the wonderful_**

**_movie_****_ adaptations by Peter Jackson. However, in this story, the arrival in Bree_**

**_is_****_ at a different hour of the day and their stay may appear to be a little longer_**

**_than_****_ that portrayed in The Fellowship of the Ring._**

****

**_The scenes with the Ruffian are totally created by this author. However, I have_**

**_tried_****_ to incorporate certain lines that fit well from the movie, but change the_**

**_flavour_****_ and the mood slightly._**

****

**_I have completely changed the idea behind how Frodo came to put the "Ring"_**

**_on_****_ his finger in the Prancing Pony. This is merely a different account of what_**

**_might_****_ have occurred outside both the book or the movie realm. I had already_**

**_written_****_ the parts about the Ruffian dragging Frodo into the room instead of_**

**_Strider, and once that was done, realised that it was a perfect opportunity for_**

**_a_****_ different portrayal of how the ring came to be on Frodo's hand. _**

****

**_There will still be references to Frodo's emotions and physical descriptions of_**

**_what_****_ the "wraith world" looks like when he puts on the ring. In this case,_**

**_I merely looked at the pictorial images in the Fellowship and added my own_**

**_ideas_****_ and expressions to what I thought Frodo might have experienced. _**

**_For now, our travellers are approaching the _****_Brandywine_********_River_****_…………_**

**The Road to Bree**

As Frodo walked away from the cave this morning, his travelling companions, both hobbit and human, were determined to keep a sharp eye on him as they continued their journey.

Sam and Pippin were concerned about Frodo's physical health after such a short

recovery time back at the cave after the overdose. His step today was evidently

slower and he wore an expression that suggested it took a good deal of concentration to keep his movements coordinated.

Strider, too, was worried about the dark-haired hobbit's physical well-being and he noted a distinct favouring from Frodo of his right foot since the beginning their walk from the cave. Frodo had not mentioned any discomfort to his ankle in more than a day, perhaps due to other more recent events.

Frodo had even paused slightly on one occasion and appeared to be rubbing or

massaging the troublesome ankle. Whether it was to help improve movement or

to help abate any lingering ache the Ranger couldn't be certain. When questioned

gently about his actions, Frodo had merely given a brief smile and reassurance

that any discomfort was minimal and would not delay their progress further.

Merry's concerns for Frodo were more about the past, rather than about the memories that had already plagued his cousin. First there were secrets revealed about horrific moments in that storm whilst living at Brandy Hall. And even worse than that, if it were possible, was the threat of an even more tragic event coming back to haunt Frodo: the death of his parents in the Brandywine River.

Frodo was usually a shy person when it came to revealing to others his true feelings, especially on such tender thoughts as those he might have about his parents.

In the past, Merry would never have dreamed of outright asking Frodo how he felt

about their premature and untimely death. Or how his cousin had learned to cope

all those years living at Brandy Hall with the incessant gossiping and rumours that

were rife amongst children and adults alike after the accident and the funeral.

Somehow, Merry would need to come up with an idea of how to distract Frodo from his memories and keep his thoughts focused elsewhere until they had crossed the Brandywine River. They still had a good distance and many miles to walk before they would reach the banks of the river.

The morning air was crisp and fresh and the group was able to enjoy their journey

a little more than other days. The canopy grew thinner overhead in a few areas, and the trees became further and further apart as the forest became sparse and no longer dominated their path.

Frodo had said very little that morning, content enough to listen to the idle chatter of Merry and Pippin. He exchanged occasional glances with Sam, making sure that his friend was alright. Sam smiled back encouragingly, but was still looking for any signs that his master needed a rest or a drink of water.

Later that morning, Frodo paused suddenly for a few minutes as the distinct call of a small bird caught his attention. Sam was about to ask why his master had stopped. Merry and Pippin had travelled a few steps in front of their cousin, and now halted, ready to return to his side if requested to do so.

Frodo's companions didn't need to be so alarmed, though, as he listened more intently to the sound of the forest and the trees, his face lighting up with a genuine smile, as he recognized what he was listening to.

"Do you hear it, Sam?" Frodo asked excitedly, then stopped the conversation to make sure their little visitor was still about. Another burst of chirps and whistles made Frodo smile fondly again.

Before Sam could ask Frodo what he was listening to, he watched the dark-haired

hobbit begin to move slowly towards a large tree a few metres to the left. The branches were high off the ground, but it was the first large bough that Frodo had his gaze fixed upon.

After taking a few careful, quiet footsteps, Frodo paused again, trying not to startle the little creature. Up until now, Sam and the others were still unaware of what it was that Frodo was seeing or hearing. A small chirp came from the branch and Strider smiled himself, also recognizing the creator of such a delicate song.

Frodo began to take another step forward, but as he did so, he also extended his left arm and then his hand, until it was fully outstretched. He walked towards the tree as if expecting something to fall into the palm of his hand.

Merry and Pippin were curious by now and were about to utter a question to their cousin, approaching with rapid footsteps that rustled the leaves on the forest floor. Frodo's attention was still firmly affixed on the tree branch in front of him, so Sam gave them a shushing gesture so they wouldn't make any undue noise. Pippin frowned at such a request to keep quiet. He didn't even know why he was being asked to keep quiet and still, but he did so.

Pippin's mouth dropped open in awe, though, and wonder, as a small red-breasted bird now landed on the very tip of Frodo's index finger. It fluttered its small wings as if unsure if the perch was safe or not. The little bird took a tiny step down Frodo's finger, unaware that his resting place was a hand.

Frodo moved his head ever so slightly towards Sam and Strider, his excitement and enjoyment of such a rare moment obvious. He had an admiration for such tiny creatures as birds. That they could come and go as their hearts desired and need only to spread their little wings to take them to the next place if they so chose.

"That's amazing, Frodo," Merry whispered, smiling at seeing Frodo with a genuine smile for what seemed like a very long time. Sam was smiling, too, along with Aragorn. The bird sensed no danger from Frodo, and had willingly perched on the finger in a display of trust that was rarely seen between such different living creatures.

"Always had a knack for animals and little creatures, Frodo has," Sam whispered to Aragorn, repeating his comments from a few days ago when he had shared the private conversation with the Ranger about his friendship with Frodo.

The enjoyment did not last long, though, and the reaction from the little bird was one that Frodo would remember for a long time. From the thinly lit canopy above, a ray of sunlight glimmered through the trees and the leaves, a shard of light hitting the chain around Frodo's neck that encircled the ring.

The little red-breasted bird saw the gleam of gold, but knew that it was not a trinket to be found. Somehow, the creature, though small and weak, sensed the evil and the power that the ring possessed. With a sharper chirp, sounding like a warning to others of his kind, the little bird took flight.

Some may have seen it just as a trick of the sunlight and not as a threat as it appeared. The bird had merely flown away to go elsewhere. But the expression on Frodo's face told a different story. He knew what the bird had seen around his neck. A chain that was linked to a great evil. A source of unknown power and one that caused other living things to shun it and to avoid it entirely.

Frodo's companions could not think of anything to say that would ease his heart of what had happened. To see the look on his face at the creature having felt safety at first, only to flee in fright, ate away at the hobbit's very core and soul. If little creatures like that bird had come to sense the evil he carried, why did his friends and family still travel with him?

Frodo turned and began their journey again, choosing not to make eye contact with any of his companions over the next hour or so. His mood, lightened a little by the chance encounter, was now sullen again and darkened as they walked. His thoughts had turned to the evil that had plagued their journey up until now. His steps felt all the heavier along with his heart.

The group soon stopped for lunch, Sam tried to bridge the gap that Frodo had carved between them since the little bird. Frodo accepted the offer of a hot drink from the stout hobbit, also accepting a plate of food, but putting it aside and barely touching the meal.

Frodo had tried to shake himself out of his mood by the time they started walking again. He forced himself to join in discussions with Merry and Pippin, but quickly lost interest in the topics that the younger hobbits found to chatter about as they walked. Pippin was declaring himself to be the winner of a competition that Merry had been aware of some time ago, but thought to have finished and himself having been declared the winner.

They tried to corner Frodo and take his attention elsewhere by demanding that he

declare one of them the winner. Frodo graciously declined, explaining that he

had not been at the Green Dragon on the night in question. Therefore, the unfortunate task then fell to poor old Sam who was not as eloquent at getting himself out of the debate as his master.

Strider found the entire episode between all four hobbits most amusing, but vowed never to get himself involved in matters concerning Shire folk or hobbits. He told them it was best for men not to involve themselves in the affairs of such intricate families. By the end of the discussion, the competition and who was the winner were still mostly unresolved.

The Ranger had advised the hobbits that they would camp earlier that evening. This was for two reasons, first to go a little easier on Frodo after only a day's recovery, and also because they could all use a little extra rest tonight before trying to cross the Brandywine River sometime very early the next day.

Strider had not explained the exact route to the hobbits yet, but sensed that Frodo at least had a fairly good understanding of how close they were. Merry, too, had a good comprehension of the natural terrain and distances that they had travelled and how far they had to go. The hobbits would grow a little more uncertain about their path once they had crossed the river.

A campsite was chosen, and firewood gathered. They would have the luxury of a soft bed of grass underneath their blankets this night, but not shelter overhead. The sky was clear tonight and the stars shone brightly. It was a welcome change from the stormy skies and rain they had been forced to endure.

Sam was happy enough with Frodo's attempts at eating that evening so he did not object to how much was left on the plate. At least he was eating something. What he didn't know was that Frodo sought any way he could use as a distraction at the moment: food, chatter with the group.

Over the last ten miles or so, he had not been able to shrug the feeling that darkness and evil were approaching him again. He had wanted to voice his concerns to Strider without alarming Sam or his cousins, but saw the Ranger behaving a little more cautiously as well. He felt the change in atmosphere, too, but just what Strider sensed, Frodo couldn't tell at this point.

Strider came over to Frodo after dinner, using his injured ankle as a way of striking up a conversation. Frodo had his cloak wrapped around him tightly, although the evening temperature was much milder than other nights on their journey. Sam was clearing away the dishes and Merry and Pippin were getting their own bedrolls ready for sleep.

The journey had been like nothing the younger hobbits had ever done before, and all the walking soon made their bodies protest in tiredness. They were not used to walking so many days in a row before, but wouldn't dare voice a word of complaint to Frodo or Strider. They had promised to come along on this journey and do so to the end, no matter how far the distance.

"How is your ankle tonight, Frodo?" Strider asked as he knelt to inspect for himself. He noted some renewed puffiness to the outer skin, signs that the distance they had walked today had aggravated the injury some.

"There is a little discomfort. It wasn't so bad up until after lunch, then I felt twinges of pain again," Frodo admitted, remembering his earlier promise of being a little more open about his injury.

"The days of rest in the cave did it some good, but that has all been undone by today's pace. It is not your fault though, Frodo. If our journey wasn't as pressing, I would have you rest in bed another day or two to ensure proper healing. But sadly, that is not an option until we reach Bree," Strider commented.

"It will be fine to walk on by morning. If I rest it enough at night, there shouldn't

be any further delay than we have already had," Frodo said.

Strider felt a little saddened at the hobbit's words. "Frodo, you are important to us

all. You are no burden and certainly cannot be held accountable for being injured.

I hope you rest well this evening, and your doubts are forgotten."

Strider left Frodo to tend the fire and talk briefly with Sam. Frodo did attempt to

get the extra rest that would be afforded them tonight for the continued journey the next day. He gazed into the low flickering flames of the fire, pleased to now see Merry and Pippin asleep in their blankets.

Sam had lain awake for some time as well as he was most pleased that Frodo had decided to share the time talking about the Shire and what events might be happening there now. Sam was concerned about how overgrown the gardens would be by now, but Frodo assured him that it was necessary for them to leave like they did in such haste.

Again that evening, Frodo found himself unable to sleep still. Sam had drifted off

after much persuasion that Bag End would still be there when they returned home.

Frodo had promised himself and Sam this. He had to cling to the hope and the belief that he would return to the Shire and his home. If he didn't have the promise of returning home, he might have found it more difficult to leave.

The flames of the fire had almost died out, and Frodo's eyes had begun to close, when they snapped open again and he sat up quickly. He had heard something. No, no, he had sensed it or the like. Yes, that was it. Something. He looked over towards Strider, but the Ranger didn't seem to notice the level of alarm already written over the hobbit's face.

Frodo was about to berate himself for being silly and wrapped his blanket a little more tightly around his shoulders. He laid down for a second, before sitting bolt upright again. This time, though, Strider also was alerted to a presence in the darkened forest.

Frodo watched as the Ranger's hand strayed to his sword, but hovered cautiously above it, ready to claim it if danger approached. No words were exchanged between the hobbit and the man, but Strider could see that Frodo was aware of something coming.

Strider cautiously aroused Merry and Pippin, whilst Frodo did the same for Sam. The others were gestured to get their belongings together without a sound. The Ranger was listening to the forest again, straining to hear any clues of what had startled the group.

The order to run upon command was given to the hobbits, their blankets were now rolled away and their packs secured onto their backs. It would only take a quick flick of Strider's hand and the hobbits knew to flee as fast as they could away from there. But then, the forest went still. As still as death itself. The leaves ceased to rustle in the gentle breeze that had been present. The breeze itself had died away to leave only shadows and a chill in the air.

Sam had huddled over towards Merry and Pippin and Strider, already aware of which direction their flight would take once necessary. Frodo was cautiously making his own way over to the group, when the distinct shrill call ran through the canopy.

There was no mistaking what made such a high-pitched squeal of anguish. A black rider. In search of the ring, no doubt, and the one who possessed it.

"Run, now!" Strider shouted to the hobbits, unsheathing his sword in one smooth movement of his wrist. The hobbits did so, in great fear of what pursued them, like they had only a day earlier. But this time the urgency was greater, because the Black Rider was moving towards them. There was nowhere to conceal themselves from the threat tonight.

"Mr Frodo, come on!" Sam urged, trying not to get too far ahead of his master.

But fear was driving the stout gardener, and his feet were working too fast. His only thought was to run, much like Merry and Pippin, and so far it seemed the only way to escape these deadly foes.

The trees became their camouflage under the night sky. The night brought out all

the shadows of the forest, causing them to keep moving as fast as they could.

Strider had caught up with them and was now running with the hobbits away from the Black Rider and its horse. They were able to hear the animal's snorting and breathing.

Ducking in behind a thicket of trees and shrubs, the hobbits crowded together, listening to the darkness and trying to pinpoint where the Black Rider was. Strider had been sheltering behind a nearby tree and now came to join them.

"We have to get out of this forest. The Brandywine River lies only a few hundred meters from here. We have to find a way to get across unseen," he whispered, his words, though, losing none of their importance as he spoke. Then the idea came to him about who knew the most about the river they were about to cross.

"Merry, is there a bridge or other way of crossing the Brandywine further downstream?" Strider asked. He knew that their haste to cross the river might be the only way of stopping the pursuit of the Black Rider.

Merry thought for a moment, knowing how important his answer would be. It could mean safety for his cousins and friends on the other side of the river. Confident that he had a plan, he replied.

"There is a ferry, about two hundred metres from here," he said, looking about and surveying the surrounding area to make sure his calculations on distance were accurate. "_Mucklebury__ Ferry,_" he announced, knowing that Frodo and Pippin would recognize the vessel he spoke of.

"But that's on the water," Sam protested, thinking about the river, but then realised it was their only way of escaping. "I will, for Mr Frodo's sake," he added, but swallowed the lump of fear that had caught in his throat.

"We will help each other through this, Sam," Frodo said, putting a reassuring hand on his friend's shoulder. "Let's go," he announced, the others nodding their head in agreement. They had already spent too much time in one place behind insufficient cover.

This time, Merry lead the group to start the run towards the riverbank. Just as they went to make the dash, though, the Black Rider and his horse appeared in front of them suddenly, cutting off their escape route. The horse snorted and grunted as the Black Rider pulled hard on the reins, making it turn in a sharp circle, trying to make a grab for one of the smaller folk.

Merry and Pippin shrieked in terror at the animal before them, but allowed their feet to have a mind of their own and carry them off the opposite way. With the group scattering, Strider was forced to protect the hobbits as best he could and follow after them in the direction he had seen them flee.

Strider could clearly see Merry and Pippin in front of him, and Sam could be heard coming up close behind. In their haste to outrun the foe, though, both the hobbits and the man were unaware that one of them was lagging further behind. Sam had assumed that his master was with Merry and Pippin, seeing as how he was the faster runner out of the two of them.

Frodo had managed to keep up with his fellow companions for a time, but as they ran towards another tree, his already weakened ankle caused him to stumble slightly. He didn't fall to the ground, but he had to clamp his teeth tightly together to prevent a cry of pain from alerting the Black Rider to their direction of travel.

Regaining his balance, Frodo attempted to increase his speed again, only to have

the ankle protest and give way again. By this time, the others had begun to run across a grassy meadow that lead to the river bank. Frodo fought back another moan of pain as he tried to stand on his ankle again.

He knew he had to run, as it was the only way to escape the Black Rider. He started to walk and then run again, the pain now intensifying. He knew now that his ankle had been re-injured, but could do nothing.

Merry and Pippin, together with Sam, now scrambled over a small fence and then

ran down to the wooden pier to board the makeshift ferry. There wasn't a large craft, but it would carry them away from the Black Riders and enable them to reach the other side of the river safely.

"Quick, Pippin! The rope, untie it," Merry shouted as the fear within him grew. He grabbed a hold of the steering pole and prepared to push the ferry away from the pier once everyone was safely on board.

"Merry, I can't get it to move," Pippin said in alarm, his hands trembling slightly from his fear. Strider hurried over to try and assist the hobbit. The rope had become dry and stiff from infrequent use and was difficult to dislodge from the moor. The Ranger's larger hands were much stronger.

Feeling the loosening of the rope and the ferry beginning to move with the current of the river, Merry braced his pole against the bank and gave a mighty shove to push them away from the pier.

The sudden jerking movement as the ferry cast off almost sent an unsteady and over-balanced Pippin into the cold water of the Brandywine River. A quick hand from Strider prevented the small hobbit from tumbling into the water.

"Thank you, Strider," Pippin said as he tried to hide his trembling hands under his cloak. The air was still a little chilly, and his near drenching in the river had added to his sense of fear and alarm.

Sam looked about, noticing that his master was not on the ferry. "Where is Mr Frodo?" he cried to the others. Strider cursed his not having noticed that the dark-haired hobbit was not with the group.

Another screech into the dark night from the Black Rider caused Sam to look up, as did the others, to see the small form of his master, still to reach the fence. He could see that Frodo's gait was no longer a run, and he had stumbled twice in the last few steps. He was not to know that Frodo had re-injured his ankle, and tried to urge his master to run faster.

"MR FRODO!" Sam yelled out, his mouth dry with fear for his friend. His master showed no signs of having heard his desperate pleas, but was still attempting to flee the perilous figure that stalked them.

What made his blood freeze in his veins was the sight of the looming Black Rider

and its beast of burden on the edge of the forest. It seemed for a moment that the

Rider had lost sight of the dark-haired hobbit.

Strider moved forward to try to act as a shield so that Frodo could board the ferry safely, but the ferry had drifted a good two metres from the pier.

"RUN FRODO!" Pippin shrieked, as he watched the pursuit with horror.

"FRODO!" came Merry's voice also, but he dared not let go of the steering pole he grasped in his hand, knowing that it was their only way of mastering the strong current across the river. His hands tightened around the wooden handle, a few splinters being driven into the palm of his hand from such grip.

Strider would not be able to easily abridge the distance without the risk of falling into the river himself. Any sudden movements like leaping from the ferry could have caused the unsteady vessel to capsize, sending all of hobbits and himself into the Brandywine River.

Pippin was searching for a way off the ferry to help Frodo, and the Ranger had to hastily grab a hold of the small hobbit to prevent him leaping from the top of the craft. Sam was also looking for a way back to the pier to try and get to his master, but he baulked at the river, knowing that he couldn't swim.

Frodo tried in vain to put a small distance between himself and the Black Rider, his breathing now harsh and his cloak flowing behind him in the wind. Just when it looked as though he might reach the pier and be able to scramble aboard the ferry to escape, Frodo's ankle folded beneath him once more.

This time his fall was harder as he had been going at a pace. He hit the ground quite hard, much to the strangulated cries of Sam and Pippin from the ferry. Strider once again had to tighten his restraint on Pippin.

With fear driving him, and with a grimace from the pain, Frodo got awkwardly to his feet, and tried to reach the pier once more. This time his steps were very unco-ordinated, and every time his foot touched the ground a jolting wave of pain would travel up his leg to his knee, causing him to cry out.

The snort of the Black Rider's horse told Frodo that danger loomed closer again. He tried to move quicker, but his gait was severely hampered. He looked at the end of the pier and the distance between that and the ferry. He could see there was little other choice but to try and leap across.

Strider sensed what Frodo was about to do, and although he did not like it, there was very little choice. "Come on, Frodo, you can do it!" he shouted, letting go of Pippin and preparing to catch the older hobbit before he landed.

"Come on, Mr Frodo," Sam said as he, too, realised what his master intended to do. The Black Rider had spotted his victim on the wooden pier and was bearing down on Frodo at a frightening pace.

Frodo took a few steps back, not daring any more for the horse and the Black Rider were quickly swallowing up the distance that existed between them. He hissed as the pain in his ankle flared again. He knew worse was to come when he would have to use both of his ankles together to make the jump.

He knew he could not wait any longer, and with a cry of determination, went to leap from the pier to try and abridge the gap to the ferry. The pain in his ankle was almost more than he could stand, and made him lose his sense of balance.

Strider called out in concern as he saw the hobbit sway a little and then reel closer to the edge of the wooden pier. Frodo's face lost some of its natural colour and he began to feel a little dizzy. Without any warning to his friends, Frodo fainted and fell head first into the cold water of the Brandywine River.

"FRODO!" Merry shouted as he saw his cousin topple into the water.

The Black Rider had now reached the end of the pier, needing to pull sharply on the reins to prevent his mount following the hobbit. The animal reared on its hind legs and gave a raspy whinny of protest towards its rider. With a shriek of frustration at having missed an opportunity to ensnare its victim, the Black Rider now turned around and headed back into the forest where it had come from, screaming into the night to demonstrate its displeasure at having lost its prey.

Pippin was laying on his belly, now trying desperately to reach out and paddle

in the water for a sign of Frodo. The water was dark and with no source of light to be found, seeing any object was virtually impossible.

The freezing cold water had the opposite effect on Frodo Baggins to begin with.

When he had fallen into the water he had blacked out and lost whatever slim consciousness he had been holding onto. Now he was brought back to alertness very quickly by the cold water. His thoughts remained unfocused as be battled to stay afloat and reach the ferry.

Merry had shouted to Frodo to grab a hold of the steering pole, holding it out as far as he could without letting go of it. He could see a dark shadow in the water and pointed the end of the pole towards it, hoping it was Frodo and that he could grab hold enough for them to help him onboard the ferry.

Frodo squinted into the darkness and his arm flailed about to find anything to hold

onto. The water was cold and his limbs were now numb and his lips tinged slightly blue. He was shivering and as he did so, he lost a large amount of body heat.

His fingertips almost reached the tip of the pole. Strider was also lying down on

the ferry, reaching out to try and grab a hold of the barely conscious hobbit and

pluck him from the water.

The cloak that Frodo had been wearing around his shoulders was now water-logged and soaked. The saturated fabric was so heavy that it weighed the hobbit down in the river and made staying afloat even more difficult.

With the assaulting cold and the pull of the river current from beneath, Frodo could feel his thoughts drifting. He lost all sense of where he was and what he was doing. His only thoughts were that he was incredibly cold and wet.

Frodo felt himself being dragged downstream by the unrelenting current. Normally, he could count himself as an excellent swimmer, but tonight, with his ankle throbbing and his leg feeling as if somebody was trying to wrench it off at the knee, it was just too much of an effort to make.

He tried to stop himself from going under, but was fighting a losing battle. With the last few threads of consciousness he had left, he saw that close to the back on the left hand side of the river was a fallen old log that fell partly over the bank and into the water.  
  
If he could just grab onto the tip of it, he could hold himself up prevent his body being taken further downstream. It was his only chance. The cold was seeping into every cell of his body and his teeth were chattering uncontrollably. He could not remember when he had felt so cold. It was almost numbing and for a few brief seconds before he did spiral into the dark fog that surrounded him, he felt no pain at all.

At the last second, Frodo had grabbed out blindly towards the fallen timber. His hands had missed on first attempt and he doubted he had the energy for a second one.

Frodo was almost beyond the fallen log and out of the reach of the help he sought from the log, when his wet and sodden cloak caught on a smaller twisted branch. The small, but thick twig pierced the fabric and held the limp form of Frodo in the arms of the tree.

When Sam and Pippin could no longer see any sign of Frodo, Strider had done his best to get the ferry to the other side of the river. He had to make sure that these three hobbits were safe before he could start looking for Frodo further downstream.

Merry steered the ferry to the opposite riverbank, and when it was close enough, Strider scrambled off it into the shallow water and pulled it further onto the wet clay to prevent it slipping back into the water.

Pippin got off the ferry, but never watched where his feet were going and instead, kept his eyes firmly fixed on the river where they had last seen Frodo. There just had to be some sign of him there. He didn't want to believe that his cousin had been pulled beneath the water and wouldn't resurface.

Sam was almost beside himself with worry for his master, but knew that with the river current being so strong, there was little that he and the other two hobbits could do. They would have to rely on Strider to find Frodo and bring him back safely.

"Sam, I will be as quick as I can, I promise. For everyone's safety, you must stay

together," Strider emphasised. "It might prove wise to get a small fire going, but only a small one. No doubt Frodo will be quite chilled from the water and we will need to get him into dry clothes as quickly as possible. Do these tasks together. I will return."

The Ranger left swiftly, not allowing for any reply from the remaining hobbits or

questions about their assigned tasks. They knew what needed to be done, especially to aid Frodo once he was found, but the fear from the Black Riders was still very near for them all.

"Pippin, I could use your help getting the fire started," Sam said, his voice still not

strong enough to hide his nervousness. He knew that Strider was counting on them all to work together, but he brought the burden upon himself to try and keep his master's cousins from thinking about his fate too much. Sam felt he owed it to Frodo to do this until the Ranger returned.

"I will try and find some dry clothes for Frodo in my own pack and get them ready," Merry suggested, his reasons being close to Samwise's. "His pack will be all sodden and muddy, if he still has it at all."

Sam hadn't thought of that up until now, but now recalling about his master floundering around in the murky water, there would indeed be a distinct possibility of Frodo becoming separated from his backpack and belongings. He was saddened by this, of course, knowing there were things packed in his master's pack that meant a great deal to him. But deep down, all Sam was mostly interested in was seeing Frodo again, at any cost.

"They might not be as fancy as Frodo's, but they will suffice until we can get him some new ones," Merry commented, holding up a shirt of his own that he thought might fit. The breeches may not be exactly to his cousin's taste, but they would keep him attired until they could buy new ones. Perhaps Bree would offer a number of places to restock not only food items but also clothing and anything else that might have been forsaken along the journey.

Pippin had gathered some small pieces of wood to be used as kindling. Sam made the decision that if he was making a fire to keep them warm and Frodo when he and Strider returned, then it would be a good idea to get a pot of water boiling for tea. He didn't know how long the Ranger intended on staying on the river bank once his master was back safely, but if the tea was already made and waiting to be drunk, then he didn't see any reason why not to prepare it.

Sam began to break the twigs up smaller still, lost in his own thoughts about his master's possible fate and unaware that Merry and Pippin were watching his hands. His grip was strong enough to break sticks twice the diameter of what he was holding. The clear ringing snap of each twig was only increasing and highlighting his own nervousness and that of the two cousins nearby.

For the next twenty minutes, the conversation between Sam and the two cousins all but evaporated. The fire was flickering low, but darkness was still all around and made it impossible to know where Strider was or if he had found Frodo yet.

Pippin shivered a little, trying to get closer to the fire. Merry doubted it was the chill in the air that made his younger cousin and friend tremble. There were shadows out there tonight, even darker than the sky itself, and they moved with a swiftness that left them breathless. Wrapping a comforting arm around Pip, Merry and Sam all tried in vain to take advantage of the warmth of the flames, desperately awaiting any news.

Strider made his way along the muddy river bank as quickly and as quietly as possible. Although his efforts now were centred upon the missing Frodo, he had to be vigilant and keep a sharp eye out in case the Black Rider returned.

The Ranger had to cling to the hope that the current had not taken Frodo too far downstream, and that the semi-conscious hobbit had found a way to cope with the chill of the water and the strong surges that were known to occur in rivers.

The Brandywine River may have looked serene enough in the daylight, almost peaceful and tranquil, one might have said. But the surface often shielded the unsuspecting swimmer or traveller from what dangers lurked just beneath. No doubt the riverbed would be scattered with large boulders and rocks and tree branches that had succumbed to the water's pull and now drifted with the current.

Strider was growing more and more concerned by the minute about any sign of Frodo. But just then something came into view up ahead, and he noticed something laying partially at the edge of the riverbank.

As he quickened his pace, his gaze was fixed firmly on the shimmer he could see about 200 metres downstream. The object appeared white in colour, and for one very brief moment, Strider swallowed hard as he recognized what it might be.

Strider would never forget the image he saw before him. As he got closer to whatever it was he could see in the water, he realised with horror that it was indeed Frodo. The thing he had been able to see some distance back in the water was the whiteness of the hobbit's shirt. Frodo seemed to be caught up in some sought of tree debris in the river. The Ranger also noticed that the white thing in the water lacked any movement at all. He ran a little faster.

Strider saw with shock that Frodo's small body was lying in the shallows of the cold water of the river. He reached the small form and tried to untangle Frodo's clothes from the branches that held him. All the time he kept beseeching the hobbit to give him some sought of sign he was still alive.  
  
Strider placed two fingers on the cold flesh of Frodo's neck and almost sat back in the water himself from the relief of finding a faint throb of life. The Ranger found himself now also in the water, trying to keep Frodo's unconscious body afloat. He could see and feel the coldness of Frodo's skin. The young hobbit's skin was tinged blue and took on an almost translucent appearance under the night's sky.

The Ranger kept calling Frodo's name and stroking the hobbit's freezing skin. There was no response. Whatever strength Frodo had had when he ran out of fear from the Black Rider and mustered to get to the river and used to prevent himself from drowning in the water was now totally spent. Frodo lay still in Strider's arms, unaware of the pleas from the man and the worried look from his face at his condition.

It took a great deal of effort from Strider to work Frodo free of the tree branch and now move him onto the bank of the Brandywine River. The hobbit, although unconscious, was still trembling from the cold and his teeth chattered together relentlessly. Strider knew he needed to get Frodo warm and fast if he was to stand any chance of surviving.

Frodo had somehow managed to keep his backpack secured on his back. The cloak he wore was now torn in a couple of places and the backpack itself was soaked through as well as everything inside. Strider dared not take the time to worry about it now when the owner was still in need of urgent care and attention.

Strider stripped off his own cloak and placed it tightly about Frodo. He knew that he couldn't leave the hobbit where he was and thought that it would be safer to get him to Bree as soon as possible. First, Frodo would need to be warmed as much as possible, before they continued through the night.

Frodo was now lifted from the sodden riverbank and held close to the Ranger's chest, both for protection and warmth. The hobbit limbs were trembling badly and his skin was much too cold to Strider's liking.

As soon as Strider came within view, he found himself surrounded on all sides by the three other hobbits, who were wanting to know what was wrong with Frodo and why he was being carried.

"Be at peace," Strider said, although he could see that they were just as concerned for their friend and cousin as he was. "Frodo is cold and exhausted from battling the river. We will warm him by the fire and get him into some dry clothes."

Sam had already laid out a number of blankets from his pack and gestured Strider

to lower his master onto them beside the fire.

"Merry, could you please remove the backpack from him. I do not think we shall

have the time to allow anything inside to dry. We need to warm Frodo as quickly

as possible, but then continue on our way to Bree tonight," Strider explained.

"You mean to make it there tonight, Mr Strider?" Sam asked, not wanting to stay

where they were, but realising that the trip would take a number of hours and it

would be dawn before they would cover the remaining distance.

"I do, Sam," Strider answered as Merry gently plucked the sodden wet backpack

from his cousin's shoulders. It was only when he placed his own hand on Frodo's

cloak and shirt that he could feel how badly he was shivering from the cold.

Frodo gave a small moan at the touch and moved his head slightly, but remained

mostly unresponsive.

"He is so cold, Strider," Merry commented out loud as he gradually worked the

backpack off without moving Frodo too much in the Ranger's arms. "We have

a fire going. We should get him as close as possible and then get some of Sam's

nice hot tea into him," he suggested, not knowing what else they could do for

Frodo this far from any settlement or in the darkness.

"Pippin, get those clothes I put aside for him and grab another spare blanket to

use as a towel," Merry said to the younger hobbit as Frodo was now laid on the

blankets Sam had prepared. Pippin scurried off, only to return a moment later

with the clothes and the blanket that were spoken of.

Strider had begun helping the hobbits to remove Frodo's wet clothes, but as they

worked together, he realised that the hobbits needed to do this for themselves.

He stepped back silently for a moment, still carefully monitoring that everything that was carried out, but sensing that it helped Sam, Merry and Pippin to know that they were helping Frodo in some small way.

It was just after Frodo was clad into Merry's spare set of clothes that the pale and

cold hobbit showed some small signs of regaining consciousness. Strider now

knelt beside Frodo again, trying to encourage this even more with soothing words

and gentle fingertips to the hands and face.

Eventually, they were all rewarded with a pair of blue eyes opening slightly and

staring up at them. Frodo closed them briefly again, as if trying to gain focus and

fathom what was happening to him.

"Don't startle him all at once," Strider warned, as Pippin tried to get closer to his

cousin. Of course, the hobbit meant well, and sought relief in the knowledge that

Frodo was conscious, but Frodo was still far from feeling well, and would no doubt be alarmed by too much exuberance or excitement displayed.

"S-St-Strider," Frodo stammered as his teeth chattered. He was so cold and the

shivering made him feel even more confused and miserable.

"It is indeed good to see you awake, Frodo," Strider remarked in a quiet voice.

"If I help you to sit up a little better, do you think you could sip at some of this

hot tea that Sam has prepared?"

Frodo nodded slightly, not trusting his voice. He had heard the word 'hot' and

only hoped that the cup of tea that the Ranger was suggesting would help in

relieving his shivering and warm him a little on the inside and the outside.

Sam had already taken the cue and was pouring hot tea into a cup, while Pippin

and Merry aided Frodo in sitting up a little. Frodo's shoulders remained slumped

and his expression was one of tiredness and exhaustion. The paleness of his skin

attested to the chill that the hobbit felt.

"Here you are, Mr Frodo, nice and hot, but cool enough to drink right away," Sam

announced with a smile. It was only once the cup was settled firmly in his master's hand and he was seated beside Frodo on the blanket to help steady the trembling hands that the stout gardener got a closer look at his master.

Frodo brought the rim of the cup to his lips, watching those around him, trying to

piece together how he had gotten his wet and this cold. He recalled being in the

water, and trying to grab a hold of something. But for the most part, the rest of his ordeal in the water was yet to be remembered.

Frodo savoured the honey-laced hot tea, allowing himself only one sip at first and

allowing it to work its way down the entire length of his throat before taking a second. It wasn't until the third or fourth sip that he could detect any wavering in the chill that tormented him. He still shivered, making Sam wrap the blanket he was draped in even tighter around his shoulders.

Merry and Pippin had gathered up Frodo's wet clothes and cloak. They had been folded and placed in the backpack with all the other wet things. No doubt, new ones would have to be gotten in Bree. There was no time for them to be hung out to dry. Any more than a couple of hours in that condition would result in a risk of mildew.

With a little warmth now beginning to penetrate his extremities, Frodo grimaced after taking another sip of tea. It seemed that the cold had delayed the pain of his ankle until now. The hot tea had allowed his blood to circulate properly once more, causing the pain to resurface and be noticeable yet again.

Frodo tried to use a hand to reach down to the affected ankle and massage the pain. It was then that he gave a whimper at the swelling of the ankle and the foot and at the pain he felt that alerted Sam and Strider's attention.

Strider grasped Frodo's hand gently, but firmly away from the area. "I will examine your ankle first, Frodo, and then the rest of you. I need to check to see if you suffered any other injuries from being in the river."

Frodo allowed his hand to go slack in the Ranger's grasp. With the tea almost gone and the warmth beginning to seep into his muscles once more, the hobbit grew tired and his eyes began drifting shut with exhaustion.

Strider helped the hobbit to recline into a lying position so that the ankle could be

examined properly. Frodo's eyes were fully closed and his head lolled to one side, indicating that he had fallen into a troubled sleep.

Strider was still concerned about the length of time that the hobbit had been forced to endure the cold water, in addition to the other physical injuries that he carried. Further illness was a distinct possibility for one so weak, especially given Frodo's proneness to respiratory ailments as Merry had informed them back at the cave.

The Ranger felt as gently around the swollen ankle as he could without causing any pain or further discomfort to Frodo. The drowsing hobbit emitted a few moans of pain when the fingers pressed too deeply, but gave no other form of protest.

"The ankle has been re-injured and will prevent any good walking from Frodo for

a couple of days. I will bandage it again for support like it was earlier in our journey," Strider explained. The three hobbits watched intently as the Ranger did just that, wrapping the limb for support.

Once finished, he went to check Frodo for any other signs of injury from the river.

Much to his relief and that of his hobbit companions, the only other notable injury

was a scratch along Frodo's back from where the twig had pierced his shirt. It was very minor and would need no additional treatment to heal on its own.

"I must ask all of you now if you are able to travel further tonight. I wish to get

to Bree before morning to enable Frodo to rest in a proper bed and allow me to tend to his ankle properly. Being out in the night air does not help him, but I need to be mindful that you all are weary from walking today yourselves," Strider said.

"I don't think anyone of us could sleep anyway, Strider," Merry replied, receiving

a nod of agreement from both Sam and Pippin. "We would be foolish to remain

here, with the threat of the Black Riders returning.

"If we make good time, then I estimate that we should reach the outskirts of Bree

before sunup. I can acquire a room in the back of the establishment which will not draw attention to ourselves, but will allow all of us, including Frodo, to rest comfortably and out of the elements. We shouldn't be there more than a few days. That is where we are to meet again with Gandalf."

The hobbits took a little reassurance in this knowledge. Strider had kept them safe and provided well for them, but the additional hope that Gandalf would join them on their journey was very welcome.

"Pack away your belongings as quickly as possible now. I do not wish to delay further if it is your wish to complete the distance to Bree tonight," Strider cautioned. "Samwise, please ensure that the fire has been doused enough and there are no embers left burning."

"Are you to carry Frodo? I don't think he will be able to walk far," Pippin said, looking worriedly over at his older cousin.

"Do not worry, Pippin, I will bear Frodo for the journey. His slight weight will be no hindrance and I do not want any pressure placed upon that ankle until I can tend to it properly," the Ranger said.

"I will take Mr Frodo's backpack. Once we get settled in Bree, I will open it up and spread the contents out and see what can be salvaged and what will need to be replaced," Sam offered.

With their immediate plans now in order, the next few minutes were used to gather all their belongings and be prepared to set out on the road.

As they travelled this night, there was very little conversation, as the hobbits still remembered the pursuit of the Black Rider. The fear was still too fresh in their minds and was still evident enough on their faces. Their eyes were wide and alert to anything that might approach the group in secret.

The group walked much closer together as well now, the darkness enveloping the

scattered forest of trees and giving the whole area a very eerie feeling. Strider noted the hesitation, the tension and the apprehension in the hobbits, knowing that none of them would rest properly nor their minds be at ease until Frodo showed more signs of improvement and they were safe enough to allow themselves to relax.

Another three hours of walking saw the hobbits grow tired, despite their inability

to relax. Thankfully, the Westgate was within sight. They were now on the outskirts of Bree and all that remained was to convince the gatekeeper to allow them into the town.

Strider paused for a minute, making sure that Frodo was still sufficiently warm within the blanket that was wrapped about him. He needed a speak of few words of warning to these gentle folk before entering such a place.

"Is he alright, Mr Strider?" Sam asked, peaking over the Ranger's arm and peering at Frodo's slumbering features. There was a slight pinkish tinge to his cheeks now, indicating that some warmth was returning to him. He looked to be resting comfortably enough in Strider's arms.

"He will be better once we have secured lodgings and have tended to his injuries properly, Sam," Strider replied. "Sleep gives him relief from the pain in his ankle and any bad memories from the river that he might experience."

Sam frowned a little at the Ranger's comments about bad memories. He had not thought of that until now. The stout hobbit had not been watching the features of Merry's face to know that he had already suspected that Frodo had been experiencing bad memories, even before the awful fall he had taken into the Brandywine River.

"Have any of you ventured to this town before tonight?" Strider asked seriously.

"No, Mr Strider, I have never been outside the Shire, as you learned earlier on our

journey. I think Mr Frodo might have, though, when Master Bilbo was still living at Bag End. I seem to recall one such trip here, though I do not remember the reason for the trip."

"Yes, I remember Frodo mentioning that he and Uncle Bilbo had been to visit here in Bree, also Sam," Merry commented. "Pippin and I have not, though. My father Saradoc has, but always thought it too rough and dangerously for hobbits, even though there are our kind living here permanently."

"You are correct, Merry, that hobbits do live here in Bree among the Big Folk. Their existence is a tolerated one, but the appearance of strange hobbits from outside the town might draw unwanted attention nonetheless," Strider remarked.

"I will speak on our behalf once we reach the Westgate. We must convince the gatekeeper of our need to enter without betraying the secrecy of our journey. Once entry is permitted, then we must go to the Prancing Pony and arrange for rooms for us all. Once settled, I will have food brought to the rooms and supplies to tend to Frodo's injuries," Strider explained.

"I must emphasise that this town is much rougher than any other place you may have seen. The people here are from many different backgrounds, and are not always welcoming or obliging of strangers or those who do not belong. Do not be tempted to separate from our group nor be tempted by any of the Big Folk to part with anything they seek. They feed only on the need to make money for themselves, and at times, that may involve fraudulent, underhanded or criminal activity," Strider continued.

With their wide eyes revealing both fear and expectation, the hobbits all nodded in agreement, heeding the Ranger's warnings. Their naivety of the ways of those who sought to take advantage of others was clearly evident. Strider only prayed that he could keep them all safe for the duration of their stay and that their eyes would be shielded from much that he had warned them about.

Strider now approached the Westgate, the three hobbits huddling behind his larger

frame, but peering around him as they watched the Ranger as he rap on the door.

Pippin could only look up in awe at the sheer size of the Westgate. Its wooden panels and iron hinges looked very formidable indeed and towered over them all in height. He did not fully understand the need for such a fort-like door on the perimeter to the town. Were they trying to keep those who dwelled within the town's boundaries? Or did they seek to keep out less unappealing visitors?

The first knock from Strider went unanswered, so he rapped a second time, with a little more force. A harsh cough came from Frodo, bundled in the Ranger's arms, causing them all to frown in concern and be thankful that they were close to being able to get him into a warm bed.

A jarring of the bolts on the opposite side of the door caused the hobbits to jump back a little in fright. There were a number of peepholes in the door's face and it was difficult to know which one was being opened.

"Halt, who goes there?" came a gruff voice from a peephole beside Merry.

"We are merely travellers wishing to stay after many hours of walking," Strider

spoke. The peephole closed and the bolts of one a little higher up were now

drawn back.

A face appeared through this one and scrutinized the visitors. "Hobbits, three of them, and a Ranger," the man said in surprise, and with a little suspicion creeping into his voice.

"Four hobbits," Strider correcting, indicating Frodo, who slept in his arms. "Please, we need to seek accommodations. This hobbit is beyond weary and his companions are in need of rest and food."

"Sounds all very strange to me, hobbits and men being in each others company,"

the thin man said. "My name is Harry Goatleaf, and it's my job to ask questions after nightfall about the comings and goings from here. There have been some strangers about lately, and none too pleasant, either."

"You have done your job admirably, Gatekeeper, but we merely seek to enter Bree and rest. Our activities do not extend past sleeping and regaining our strength," Strider urged.

The thin man's features narrowed towards Strider for a moment longer, as if trying to recognize him from somewhere before. Without anything further being said, the peephole was closed, but then the larger iron bolts could be heard being unlocked.

Inwardly, the hobbits gave a sigh of relief, as it appeared they were to be granted

entry into the town after all. They shied away underneath the gatekeeper's piercing gaze as they passed by, but gave small words of thanks for his courtesy.

Sam couldn't help but feel that he didn't like the man. He couldn't quite put his finger on the cause, and he had never met the fellow before, but his demeanour and the way he had looked at all of them with suspicion didn't sit well on the stout gardener. Strider's warnings were now echoing in his mind very clearly.

As the group continued its way down the narrow streets of the town, the horizon was becoming a kaleidoscope of colour as the night gave way to dawn. Merry and Pippin looked about in amazement and wonder at the various new sights and sounds that struck them from all angles.

"What where you are going, rat," came a voice to Pippin's left as he almost walked into a large, burly man. A firm hand on the hobbit's shoulder guided him around the trouble, as he swallowed hard. He gave a small smile of thanks to Strider, but this was clearly a different world to anything that these hobbits had ever seen.

Pippin could see all sort of market carts, bearing goods and fresh produce. His stomach burned with hunger, but he dared not stray from the group to sample what was offered. The foods were plentiful and very different from what he was used to seeing at the markets in Tuckborough.

"We will eat soon, Pip," Merry whispered into his cousin's ears. He too, wished to be able to walk around at his leisure and taste what was on offer, but given the dangerous nature of the streets, he knew that they would not do so safely without Strider's guidance.

"There it is," Sam announced excitedly, and then admonished himself for having spoken out loud about their intended destination. Strider assured him that no harm had come, and that no inference could be drawn from Sam speaking of their lodgings.

Another harsh cough from Frodo within the bundled blankets caused the group to keep to their task and enter the establishment without delay. But it was upon entering the Prancing Pony, that the hobbits truly knew themselves to be far away from the Shire and anything remotely familiar to their kind.

Fortune was on their side, for at this time of the morning the place was virtually empty and they were able to enter without having the local patrons pay particular attention to them. The sight of a man travelling with four hobbits would certainly be something for most to remember if asked to recall.

Strider approached the tall bar, addressing the inn-keep that was cleaning a few tankards in a copper tub. The man was wearing a stained shirt, but gave a friendly enough smile. The hobbits were at a disadvantage, not able to see or hear what conversation was being exchanged.

Merry grew a little curious when the inn-keep seemed to know Strider. He certainly extended a ready handshake to the Ranger, as if they had not seen each other in some time. Strider, too, appeared at ease with the man, although up until now, he had not informed any of the hobbits that he had frequented such a place in the past.

The conversation between Strider and the man now grew more audible, and the

hobbits found the inn-keep's attention to be on them and Frodo.

"The name's Butterbur. Barliman Butterbur. This here is my place, and you are most welcome, young sirs. Don't often get Shire folk coming into these parts," the man offered in greeting.

Merry pondered this again. Was the inn-keep about to tell that they were hobbits from the Shire? Or had Strider mentioned something in the muttered conversation that had earlier been between the two men? He was intrigued as to how the man had come to know their origins. Was it their clothes that gave an indication? Or their appearance? For now, his questions went unspoken and unanswered, but he was curious all the same.

Sam now drew in a small breath as he heard the inn-keep pay attention to his master, still resting in Strider's arms.

"What happened to that one?" Butterbur inquired, noting that the hobbit had a different appearance to the other three that stood behind the Ranger. This one had pale features and a heedful of dark hair. Even the hobbits in Bree didn't have hair that colour.

"We have travelled many hours, and this young hobbit grew a little more weary than the others. He has hurt his ankle, and I will require you to bring me some supplies once you show us to our room," Strider answered.

"A room, you say? Do you know how long you intend to stay in Bree?" Butterbur asked, thinking this was a little out of the ordinary for a Ranger from the northern parts. He had to admit that he had recognized Strider when he came in. The strong features were not easy to forget. But there seemed an air of mystery about this whole affair, with him keeping company with hobbits, and Shire folk at that.

"No more than necessary," Strider replied, leaving the question of 'how long' unanswered.

"You will be needing separate rooms, then, for the hobbits and yourself? We have some nice hobbit-sized rooms out back. Nice and cosy they are for the likes of your friend there," the inn-keep asked, still trying to ascertain the identity of the sleeping hobbit.

"Yes, a hobbit-sized room with four cots, and a large room for myself," Strider answered. Pippin was about to open his mouth in protest, but was quickly shushed by Sam before any comment could be made. Pippin had been concerned that Strider planned to leave the four hobbits alone at night or at least when in their room. Sam whispered assurances to Pippin that the Ranger knew what he was doing.

"Right you are, then. I just need you to sign there for your room, and for the hobbit there to sign for the other room, and I can give you keys and show you the way," Butterbur said.

"Mr Underhill is sleeping at present, and I have no immediate plans to awaken him. I will sign your registers on behalf of us all, will that suffice?" the Ranger asked, a little anger creeping into his voice at the consistent questions.

"Mr Underhill, is it?" Butterbur said as he handed two small brass keys to the Ranger and then walked around the bar, ready to show them to their temporary lodgings. "You sure he is alright? Not sickening, is he? I can get a healer for you if that's what you'll be needing?"

"No, thank you, he will not need the services of a healer. I would appreciate it if you did not alert anybody about which rooms we are staying in. We will partake our evening meal in the main barroom, but for the remainder of the day, I wish for food and whatever else we require to be brought to us," Strider replied.

"Certainly, I will make sure of that. No one will disturb you until you or the young masters wish to journey out of the rooms at your own leisure," the inn-keep assured them. "I will have fresh linen brought to your rooms, and plenty of blankets. I will also have food and drink prepared as soon as I go back to the front desk."

"I am grateful for your hospitality," Strider commented as they reached the rooms. He bid good day to the inn-keep and took Frodo with him into his room. Merry volunteered to take his, Pippin's and Sam's belongings. Sam was determined to follow Frodo.

"Why did we need to get two rooms?" Merry asked. The question had been on the tip of his tongue for some time, but now that the inn-keep was out of sight, he needed to know.

"Merely a precautionary measure, Merry," Strider replied as he gently laid Frodo down on the large bed. "I intended for you all to stay in one room with me, but to keep up appearances whilst we are here in this town, and to still retain the air of secrecy about our task, I chose to have two rooms. Nobody would think to draw any mischief out of hobbits who were staying in rooms meant for their kind."

"I take it, then, that we will have to be careful about entering or leaving the room, and chance not being seen," Merry surmised.

"Only for today, until I can take care of Frodo properly. We are not in the forest now, and there may be those who would seek to impede our journey," Strider continued.

"You mean, stop us? But why would they do that?" Pippin blurted out, thinking that perhaps the Ranger was only trying to protect them. They had already encountered the evil Black Rider, and he couldn't fathom what or who would be more dangerous in this town to himself or his other companions.

"The ring that Frodo carries belongs to Sauron, Pippin. And he will stop at nothing to regain it into his possession. He may have acquired the services of spies or thugs to try and find out who has the ring, and they may try to take it by force." Strider explained.

At this statement, all three hobbits looked down at the sleeping form of Frodo, knowing that it was he that was most in danger. If what Strider was saying turned out to be true, then these thugs and spies would be looking for Frodo. Each of them silently promised themselves and Frodo that they would not let him come to harm at the hands of others if they could prevent it.

A knock at the door made the hobbits jump slightly. All three of them tried to conceal their presence in the room behind the door as Strider went to open it. "Who goes there?"

"It is only I, Sir, the house boy, with your linen and blankets," came the meek reply from the other side of the door. Strider berated himself for being so edgy, but still kept alert, even after he had opened the door.

"Thank you," Strider said as he took the linen and blankets from the teenage boy. The lad didn't say anything, and could scarcely race fast enough away in fear that the man was cross at him for being disturbed.

Strider was about to begin tending Frodo, when a second rap came to the door. Once again, the hobbits concealed themselves. The Ranger was growing a little agitated at being disturbed twice in the previous five minutes after only being in the rooms for a very short time.

"Yes?!" he answered the door, jerking it a little more roughly than he had intended. Standing before him was Barliman Butterbur, bearing two trays laden with food and drink as he had promised.

"My apologies, Mr Butterbur, I did not expect you again so soon," Strider greeted

the man, feeling a little awkward at having sounded so gruff.

"No harm done," Butterbur replied, trying to hide the surprised look he had worn at the Ranger's sharp tone. "I know something of what hobbits like to eat and selected a small sample of everything I had on the menu. I hope it is to your liking." As he placed the trays in the Ranger's hands, he tried to peer inside the doorway and get a better look.

"Thank you, but if you will excuse me. I would like to sleep after travelling all night," Strider said, hoping that the inn-keep had not gotten any glimpse of Frodo sleeping on the bed on the opposite side of the room.

This time, Strider locked the door behind him, ensuring that they would not be disturbed further until necessary. They now had food and beverage enough for all, and linen to cover the bed. Due to Strider's choice of a larger room, there were three beds. One large double-sized where Frodo rested now, and two smaller single ones.

"Go ahead and eat while I tend to Frodo and his ankle. If he is awake when I am finished, I will try an get him to consume a little food and some water. After that, I hope that both he and all of you sleep a good few hours and recover your strength," Strider said.

"I will help you, Mr Strider. I wouldn't feel comfortable and all, eating when Mr

Frodo's still hurting and all," Sam commented. "Maybe I can encourage him to eat a bit with me, since he will not likely be feeling up to it, anyways."

Strider smiled at Sam's elaborated way of telling him that he wished to remain with Frodo. The Ranger had already suspected as much, and had no intentions of stopping Sam from being with his master. More than likely his assistance would be needed once he started examining the injured ankle more closely.

Very gently, Strider sat on the edge of the large bed, and lifted Frodo slightly, allowing Sam to slip a soft pillow underneath the dark curls. A soft sigh escaped Frodo's lips as he nestled into the softness and slipped deeper into sleep.

Merry and Pippin sat at a table not too far away, happy to let Strider and Sam tend to Frodo, but aiming to keep a eye on the proceedings as they tucked into some of the food. Pippin's plate was laden up with all sorts of dishes that Barliman had prepared. He intended to sample them all, and was pleasantly surprised by the richness of some of flavours and textures that invaded his senses.

"Wrap another blanket around him, and then I want you to stay beside him. I will need to probe a little deeper around his ankle, and it will hurt some. It is unfortunate, but I must be sure what damage has been done before I treat it. He may need you for comfort if he becomes too distressed from the pain," Strider told Sam.

Now, in the light of the room, Strider was clearly able to see the extent of the swelling to Frodo's foot. The skin surrounding the bottom of his ankle had barely begun to heal from the previous injury. Bruising had once again started to form, and this time the colour was a few shades darker.

As carefully as he could, Strider pressed his first two fingers around the swollen tissue to detect any broken bones or torn ligaments. Frodo, who had been sleeping, felt the pain and pressure and turned his head on the pillow and whimpered out loud.

"Shhhh, Mr Frodo, Mr Strider's taking real good care of you, I promise. He just needs to check your ankle to see how bad it is," Sam soothed, putting a supportive arm around his master.

Strider continued his examination, but when he pressed on one particular area of

Frodo's ankle, the pain was so immediate and intense that Frodo sat bolt upright in bed and screamed aloud in pain.

"I am sorry, Frodo," Strider apologized, as Sam tried to calm down his master and allow the examination to continue. "I will be finished in a moment."

And true to his word, he stood up again, and thought about the best method of treatment. "I will soak some bandages in some water once more, Frodo, but these herbs will be much stronger than the last ones I used. They will help to bring down the swelling while you rest and the cloth bandage will support the ankle, as it begins to heal itself.

Frodo comprehended a little of what was being said to him, and nodded as he heard the Ranger say something about bandaging his ankle. The pain was very bad, and even with Sam's soothing words, it was not relenting.

"Would you like something to eat, Mr Frodo?" Sam asked his master, trying anything he could think of to keep Frodo's mind off his ankle and the pain that he was experiencing.

Frodo shook his head immediately, not entertaining the idea of food at all.

"What about a drink of water, then?" Sam said quickly, not knowing what else he

could do at this point in time. He was relieved to see Frodo give a brief nod.

Pippin had heard the request from Sam for water and poured some into a mug

from the pitcher that had been provided earlier.

Frodo took a few small sips of the water, allowing them to coat the back of his

throat. When he pulled his head away from the mug, his chest erupted in another

harsh cough, causing him to grimace in pain from his lungs and his ankle.

Still feeling incredibly cold, Frodo grasped at the blankets around his shoulders

and pulled them together around his shivering form tightly once more. Resigning

himself to the pain, he now lay down and turned slightly on his side, hoping that

his exhaustion would overcome the pain by allowing him to fall into a dreamless

sleep.

"You go right ahead and rest, Mr Frodo. I will stay right here with you. I am

not going anywhere," Sam said as he fussed about the blankets and adjusted them

several times to ensure that his master would be warm enough. He tried to help bring on sleep by rubbing the centre of Frodo's back in a circular pattern. This, he hoped, would also aid in preventing any further harsh coughing.

Strider now proceeded to soak the bandages from his backpack for a full half an hour in a basin of warm water. Then he used Sam's help further to begin wrapping them securely around Frodo's ankle. The slumbering hobbit was not responding at all to his administrations, his exhaustion now complete.

Declaring themselves full from the wonderful feast they had had Merry and Pippin now found themselves growing weary. With Frodo now tended to, and sleeping soundly on the bed, there was not need for them to be watching him all the time. Strider led the two sleepy hobbits to one of the single beds and ensured that they, too, were warm enough. They would sleep as deeply as Frodo, the walking being arduous on them.

"I will leave for a moment, and return the food trays to the inn-keep. I will lock the door behind me. Do not let anyone into this room, I will use the key to let myself in again," Strider informed Sam. He could see that Samwise would to be asleep beside his master before his return. Sam nodded at Strider's warning, finding his own body relaxing despite himself in the warm of the blanket that was draped over him and Frodo.

After leaving a small plate of the remaining food aside for himself, Strider left

the room and locked the door. He now made his way back to the kitchen

and went to speak to Butterbur upon another matter that could not wait until later.

"Ah, I see you have enjoyed your meal," said the inn-keep, smiling broadly. "I trust it all to be to your satisfaction?"

"Yes, thank you. What the hobbits did not eat I have left in the room for later. But I will send word to you if they require more before the morning. I now need to ask you if you have seen Gandalf the Grey," Strider asked, his eyes searching the inn-keep for any sign that he might have been withholding such information.

"Gandalf?" the man said, his face turning down into a frown as he tried to recall such a name. "Gandalf?

For a moment, Strider waited for any news that might have been left by the wizard.

"Oh, now I remember. _Elderly chap, big pointy hat_," Butterbur said, as a vague description came to him through the cobwebs of his mind.

Strider nodded, happy to have the inn-keep at least identify with the person whom

he was seeking. There couldn't be too many mistakes made about seeing a wizard. Surely a town such as Bree would not have seen the likes of Gandalf too often.

"I haven't seen him for six months," Butterbur said, content to go back to cleaning his glasses, at first not knowing that his words had dealt such a blow to the Ranger.

"Not seem him?" Strider said, repeating the man's own words. Gandalf had told

him specific details about his intended route, and they had included Bree. What

could have happened to the Istari between Hobbiton and the path Gandalf would have taken?

"No," Butterbur said again, trying to read what this might mean to the Ranger and

the group of hobbits that he had arrived at the Prancing Pony with. The fact that

they were wanting to meet up with the likes of a wizard intrigued the inn-keep even more.

"Perhaps he has been delayed," Strider offered, not wanting to believe that their

journey had become even more unfortunate. "Please give me a message immediately if he should be seen here."

"Aye, I will, Sir," the inn-keep promised. Strider left to return to his room and the

hobbits. He had to find a way to convince them that Gandalf's disappearance would not hamper their journey further.

When Strider entered his room after speaking with the inn-keep Butterbur, he smiled to note how silent the room was. All four hobbits were soundly asleep, and that is where he intended to leave them until they were ready to wake. There was nothing so pressing that it couldn't wait until after they had gained a few more hours sleep.

Strider, too, lay down on the bed left for him. Even though not wanting to admit a

little tiredness on his part, it would not do him nor the hobbit any good to deprive

himself of sleep. If he did so, he might risk being not alert to any danger that may be lurking unseen. His sleep would be light enough for him to hear anybody attempting to leave or enter the room.

About three hours after Strider had returned to the room, Frodo stirred from his slumber. What had disturbed him, he could not say, but he sat up, trying not to wince out loud at the pain still present in his ankle.

Frodo looked about the room and noted Sam and his cousins getting some much needed sleep themselves. He looked over to his right and saw that Strider also slept or dozed lightly, his sword close by in case of trouble.

Frodo did not want to move overly and disturb Sam. Clenching his teeth tightly and swinging his legs over the bed, he remained seated until the initial dizziness eased. It took approximately ten minutes for him to think himself ready to get up from the bed. He knew he had to be mindful of his injured ankle. No doubt both Strider and Sam would chastise him if they heard him or saw him walking about.

To his relief, someone did begin to stir, but it was neither the Ranger nor his trusting friend Sam. Merry opened his eyes and was about to shout in alarm at seeing Frodo's unsteady step. But a quick shushing gesture from his older cousin made him forget any noise he had intended to make.

Merry got to his feet, noting that Pippin's sleep was deep and more than likely

he wouldn't be disturbed. He walked across to Frodo, who had yet to take a second step. Bearing most of Frodo's weight, Merry led him to sit on the last unoccupied single bed that had been meant for Sam.

The distance had been less than three or four steps, but they had clearly been painful for Frodo. His face was scrunched into a grimace and his eyes were closed tightly against the wave of pain that had travelled from his foot up his entire leg. Merry expression was full of concern and he pondered whether or not he should wake Strider to ask for something to ease his cousin's pain.

Frodo had already guessed at what Merry was thinking of doing. "I will be alright, Merry," he whispered, his voice barely audible.

"No, you are not, and don't try and deny it, Frodo," Merry began to say sternly.

But upon seeing Frodo close his eyes to another bout of pain, his heart as well as his expression softened. He now sat beside the dark-haired hobbit and put a hand on his shoulder.

"You are not alright," he said softly, but firmly.

Frodo gave the best smile that he could manage in return. "Sorry, Merry, it's just

that I have been trying to mull over a few things in my head over the last hour.

I woke up and couldn't go back to sleep. At first, I couldn't put my finger on the

reason, but all I can do now is think about the river last night."

Although their voices were hushed, a man and two other hobbits had awoken and

though still feigning sleep, they listened intently to the quiet conversation between

the cousins. They had no wish to disturb what was clearly a private moment

between Merry and Frodo.

Sam had to try hard to make the worry on his face disappear and for him to still

appear asleep. His face was turned away in the opposite direction, and when he

opened his eyes a little, very cautiously, he could see that Strider was awake as well.

"What do you mean about the river, cousin?" Merry asked, admitting to being a little curious about Frodo's statement. He could certainly understand the apprehension in Frodo's voice about floundering around in the water and being swept away by the strong current.

"I didn't feel it when I was running towards the river, but after I fell in and the water began swirling around me, it was almost as if someone else was there with me," Frodo said, his expression pleading for Merry to understand what he was trying hard to explain.

"Your parents?" Merry said with a touch of sadness. He caressed the back of Frodo's hand with his thumb for reassurance. He saw Frodo swallow the lump that was caught in his throat and saw the beginning of tears welling in those blue eyes.

Frodo turned his head away, the tears trickling down his face. "You and most

others would think me a fool, but I know what I felt," he said with an emotion

filled voice.

"Nobody here in this room thinks that, Frodo," Merry replied to his cousin's harsh

view of himself. "I am sorry that you had to travel to the river again and be forced to relive some of those memories that you hide so well inside."

"They might say they understand, Merry, as you say you do. But what you would doubt is that for a brief moment, my heart was in another place," Frodo admitted for the first time. He wondered if he should burden his younger cousin's heart so with such words, but he knew that he would not dare share thoughts and feelings with anyone else. Not even with Sam.

"Another place?" Merry asked, seeing his cousin's eyes change, as if Frodo's was seeing something in the distance that he could not.

"At first, I fought against the current. Kicked and struggled against the water that was slowly pulling me down, until my legs and arms did not have the strength to keep moving. Then, as the water started to rise above my shoulders and threatened to take me under the surface, I heard a voice. Or perhaps two."

"What did these voices say to you?" Merry asked cautiously, something telling him that he didn't like where this conversation was heading.

"They were soft as a summer breeze and it was difficult to hear them, but just when I thought the fight hopeless and that I would indeed drown, they became incredibly clear. It was a man and a woman, whom I can only assume were my parents. I could not see any shape to identify who might be speaking, but the voices filled my head and made me feel like I should not be afraid of them?"

"And?" Merry encouraged, part of him wanting to know, and part of him not.

"They were saying to let go. That if I wanted to they would take me to a safe place where I could always stay and never worry about being hurt again. I would feel safe and would be loved and know the meaning of love again," Frodo said, his head bowed a little as he spoke, not wanting direct eye contact with his cousin.

"Maybe it was the cold water that gave you these vivid pictures in your head," Merry suggested, not knowing what else to say when his cousin was talking about hearing the voices of his long since dead parents. Perhaps it brought him comfort after almost drowning in the same river.

Frodo looked intently at his cousin for a moment, suddenly realising for the first time perhaps in a long time just how much the hobbit before him had grown. Not only physically, either.

Strider had seen them though some evil times already, that could not be denied.

Sam had been more than the dutiful servant on this trip, and had become more of a friend and companion than Frodo could have ever hoped for. Pippin, too, had his own exuberance about him that gave to those around him the energy to keep going. He had done much on this journey to keep Frodo young at heart and spirit, even if he didn't know it.

On the other hand, Merry was different altogether. Whilst it was true that he had a youthful energy all of his own that he often shared with Pippin there were times

when Frodo found other qualities in his personality. Some of those traits others may not have noticed right away. They were the ones hidden beneath Merry's, cheeky exterior that he rarely let others see unless he chose to. Frodo was fortunate to be counted as one of those special few.

Right then, there in that room, Merry had presented himself as someone who was just there to listen. Not to offer soothing words. A silent strength that Frodo had learned to draw on and lean on over the years. He silently prayed that such a strength would one day shine for all to see.

"No, it was no dream," Frodo said, looking up as he spoke. "And you want to know what the worst part is?"

Merry nodded his head for Frodo to continue, not trusting his voice to speak. If what he had already heard wasn't the worst, then what else could have happened out there on the Brandywine River?

Sam bit his lip slightly to keep from crying out and jumping to his feet, alerting everyone else in the room that he was awake and listening intently to what his master was saying. His heart was beating a little faster at the apprehension that he was feeling about what Frodo would say next.

"Right before my eyes failed me and I began to lose cohesive thoughts and the pain in my body grew; for the briefest of moments, I truly wanted to heed their words and 'let go'. To be free of this world and join my parents if it was them that spoke."

By now Frodo's emotions were clearly visible and he accepted the embrace of his

younger cousin, letting the freshness of the hurt to his old scars run through him.

"Can you forgive me for thinking such a thing. I cannot deny that I would love to

see my parents again, but know that the time is not now. Is it so foolish to miss them all over again after many years have passed?"

"No, its not foolish at all, Frodo," Merry said, allowing a few tears of his own run

freely down his face for Primula and Drogo. They would have been so proud of their son that had grown into an adult hobbit and carried on their name in honour.

"Let's get you a drink of water and then you should try and get some rest," Merry

said, seeing how much of a toll such emotions had taken on Frodo. The older

hobbit did not realise that he was on a different bed. At the moment, it didn't matter which bed he used for sleep, so long as he got some much needed rest.

"I am sorry for disturbing your rest, Merry," Frodo said, accepting the water from

Merry and then attempting to nestle back into the warmth of the blankets. Merry

retrieved a second blanket from the bed Frodo had occupied earlier and now draped it over his cousin. Frodo's eyes began to slowly drift close. After a long and deep sigh, he allowed his breathing to slow more and tried to empty his head to find respite from his memories and the pain in his body.

Merry stood looking at his cousin as he slept, trying to read what other dark thoughts might be plaguing Frodo. "Do not let the ghosts from your past influence your future, cousin. You will be needed in this world for a long time yet, Frodo Baggins. For what purpose, is still yet to be seen, but my heart tells me that your deeds will be great."

Merry was lost momentarily in his own thoughts, until he felt someone's hand on his shoulder. He turned to see a sympathetic, but understanding Strider standing at his side, observing both him and Frodo.

"He has fallen asleep again," Merry mentioned absentmindedly, not knowing that everything that had been exchanged had been overheard.

"So I see," Strider whispered. The Ranger was cautious enough not to make comment about the conversation he had been a silent party to. He never breathed a word to Merry, and certainly wouldn't betray Frodo's trust. There were some things that he would not repeat. "He is still experiencing pain from his ankle," he now added, trying his best to examine Frodo without touching his patient and risk waking him.

"So much has changed in such a short space of time for him," Merry said as he thought about the last month or so. It wasn't just the journey that they now found themselves taking into places unknown. Bilbo's disappearance had affected Frodo profoundly, more than any of them had could have imagined. Perhaps even more so than Frodo would admit himself.

Strider could see that Merry was beginning to sink into the same melancholic mood that his dark-haired cousin was in. Perhaps there was something that they could do here whilst in Bree that would stop that from happening further to the both of them.

"Sam, Pippin, come here, please," Strider now instructed them, gathering the three awake hobbits to the table so that their conversation would not awaken Frodo.

"I cannot allow you to wander the streets of Bree on your own, as they are far too

dangerous even for men at times. If you give me a list of the supplies you require

to replace, then I will obtain them," Strider said.

"What do you want us to do while you are out?" Sam asked, not exactly understanding what the Ranger was trying to do.

"For now Sam, stay here until after I have returned. Frodo should be awake enough to join in a meal in the inn's main bar room. He might need a little coaxing at first, but with a little subtle help from us all, I want him to forget the danger that has pursued us thus far and unwind a little. Just the four of you," Strider explained.

"You want us to go in there alone," Sam asked nervously. Merry and Pippin were not nervous, but their eyes shone with excitement of what the bar-room atmosphere would bring.

"I will be close enough to observe and protect you if called upon, but I will allow you to entertain yourselves whilst you eat and partake a little of the local ale," the Ranger answered.

"Ale?" Pippin squeaked, barely able to contain his excitement. He looked at Merry and saw the same look of anticipation playing out on his cousin's features. "What kind of ale, Strider?"

Sam smiled a little at the two cousins, never ceasing to be amazed by their ability

to find their feet again so shortly after a dark and dangerous journey. They appeared to have forgotten the evil in the forest, and saw Strider's offer as an opportunity too good to pass up.

"It is brewed a little quicker than what you would be used to back in the Shire, so

beware. Though the taste is quite enjoyable, so long as it is consumed in moderation," Strider warned.

"Pip, we can treat it just like another night back in the Shire at the Green Dragon.

That should get Frodo out of his dreary mood. He might even join us in a pint, if he feels up to it," Merry said to his younger cousin.

"Remember, gentlemen, Frodo is still recovering from his ankle injury. No strenuous activity or weight is to be placed on his foot. I want him seated at all times. You can bring him whatever food and drink he asks for," the Ranger heeded to them.

"Oh, of course. We wouldn't dream of letting Frodo walk on his sore foot," Pippin said.

"Now, Master Merry and Master Pippin, I don't think……..," Sam began to say

when he realised that anything he had to say would probably go ignored. The two

hobbits were now chatting incessantly with each other, making plans and organising who was going to be doing what.

Strider and Sam exchanged glances and then smiled, knowing that they were merely excited. Frodo had not even agreed to go yet, and here they were, planning out the entire evening. And a long one by the sound of it.

"Sam, could you make a list of what you and Frodo will need replaced and I will

do that now while Frodo rests. When I return, we can try and coerce him into

joining us for that meal, but only if he wants to. Otherwise I will have food brought to the room for him as before."

Sam diligently set out to explore his pack and his master's to see what needed repairing or replacing. In the case of most of Frodo's clothes, that was, almost all of them, the mud from the bottom of the Brandywine had stained the fine linen shirts until they were the colour of egg shell. Those stains could not be removed easily, if at all, without damaging and weakening the fabric to a great degree.

Strider set off in the early afternoon, planning to be only gone an hour. Frodo still slept during this time and the other hobbits remained quiet for his sake. Strider was able to find most articles on Sam's list without trouble, although the woman at the drapery did think it odd that a man would be purchasing hobbit size clothes. She had given him a suspicious glance, but his steely outward appearance prevented her from actually voicing her questions directly to him.

The Ranger approached the door to his room, unaware that his movements were being watched from the shadows. The stranger watching found the presence of someone from the North in Bree to be very curious. He decided to keep his watchful gaze on the man to see if any information about his activities could be gained. The observer's name was Bill Ferny.

When Strider re-entered his room, he was pleased to see Frodo beginning to stir

a little from his deep slumber. He set the parcels he had brought back with him on a table. Sam took a brief look at the contents, nodding his head in appreciation that most of the items off his list were within.

"How are you feeling, Frodo?" Strider enquired, waiting some time for the hobbit to gain his bearings a little. Frodo's face drew into a frown as he tried to regain some of the time he seemed to have lost whilst asleep. Conversation that had occurred was a little hazy and it now eluded him. He faintly recalled talking to Merry, but could not remember what had been said.

"Much more rested, thank you," Frodo answered. Just as he said that, his foot began to ache a little from the injury. The pain was bearable and not the continual throbbing it had been when they had first arrived in Bree.

If it were possible, that part of their journey was a little distant in his mind. He didn't remember coming into the town at all. He remembered Sam and Strider leaning over him briefly while he was lying on a bed. But not much else up until now.

"We should rest quietly for another hour or so until dusk and then go and eat our

evening meal inside the Prancing Pony. Though I have to warn you that there will

be local patrons beginning to come in as the hour grows darker," Strider informed the hobbits.

The hour soon came, and as the sun began to set outside, Frodo and the other hobbits readied themselves to enjoy a little company on this night. It would certainly be different from most they had experienced on their journey so far. Merry and Pippin were the most excited, scarcely able to keep still for their restless spirits and the promise of a good time to be enjoyed.

Frodo could see that this might cause some problems for them all, and as gently as

he could, without wanting to spoil their fun, he decided to talk to them as their

older cousin. "Lads, I know you want to enjoy yourselves and have a good time

this evening, but please remember that we are a long way from the Green Dragon

back in the Shire."

Sam nodded his head in agreement of his master's words. "That's right Sirs, my Rosie won't be behind the bar to serve you tonight."

"Don't worry, Frodo and Sam, we will behave ourselves. As you say, it might not

be the Green Dragon, and there would be few places that could stand up to such a fine establishment, but this is the first chance we have had to relax," Merry said on behalf of them both.

"We shall have a grand meal and half a pint of ale and be satisfied with that," Pippin added, smiling at Merry with a gleam in his eye. Pippin knew full well that the tankards served in this place would be meant for men. Half a pint of ale in that size mug would be the equivalent of three full pints back in the Shire.

Frodo and Sam exchanged dubious glances, but promised themselves that they would be keeping a close eye on them just in case. Strider laughed a little at the antics between them all. Frodo rarely found himself falling into the role of protector and guardian, but did so tonight, erring on the side of caution tonight, aware of the journey still before them after Bree.

Three hobbits and the Ranger now exited the room, Strider looking about to check the immediate area. Bill Ferny, who was still watching the room and door from his darkened corner, now sat up with sudden interest. He swore to himself that this group together was not a chance thing.

Men did not often keep company with hobbits, and vice versa. If they were seen together it was barely in acquaintance as far as the local hobbits of Bree. Bill Ferny tried to think of all the reasons why a Big Person might be in the company of four hobbits. Their appearance and that of their clothing indicated to him that they were not local folk.

What made Ferny take notice even more was the darker-haired hobbit that stood out from the others. The other three had a similar colour hair and were readily engaging in conversation with the Ranger. The fourth one kept silent as he waited for the Ranger to lock the door behind them. His eyes were wide as he looked about, and he was clearly feeling a little awkward in a place such as this.

Bill Ferny watched Frodo with a little more interest, and almost gasped in surprise when the hobbit turned slightly. They were all wearing fine clothes, except for the Ranger, who was dressed in usual attire for his occupation. The dark-haired hobbit was wearing a white shirt with a jacket and breeches. The top button of the shirt was not fastened securely, thereby revealing a little glint of gold as the light hit it briefly due of the way he was standing.

Ferny kept as still as possible, but his gaze never wandered too far from this most interesting of hobbits with his treasure hidden beneath his linen shirt. He would have to wait until the right time to get the hobbit on his own and find out for himself what the treasure was. For now, the Ranger was too close and too alert for him to try anything.

A table was soon found to seat them all and the hobbits sat down, two on either side. They were seated towards the rear of the room, with a large staircase to their left. Sam was beside Frodo, and Merry beside Pippin. They had yet to gain the attention of the barmaids, but they looked about the room, taking in the atmosphere and the sights and sounds that came at them from every corner of the room.

Strider was sitting at another table a little further away. He had spoken to them before leaving their room about what others would derive from seeing them in each others' company. It had been decided that the hobbits would sit at their own table, with the Ranger keeping a close eye on them from another table in the corner of the room.

After a short time, Merry and Pippin appeared to relax better than Frodo or Sam.

Frodo still rubbed at his injured ankle and his colour was paler than Strider would

have liked. By now, drinks had been ordered and received. Merry and Pippin were happy to indulge in the amber-coloured liquid. The taste to Sam was a lot sharper than that of what his Gaffer made back home. Frodo had not touched his drink yet.

Soon, the acrid smell of tobacco smoke caused the air to be pungent and choking. The hobbits found their eyes watering even after only a short time. Back in the Shire, the smoking of pipeweed had become somewhat of an art and the hobbits prided themselves on such a pleasure to be enjoyed in each others' company. But this was different and they had no desire to share any of the company within the establishment.

Laughter could be heard through the room and that combined with ordinary, but

enthusiastic conversation, caused the noise to be at deafening levels. Pippin said something to Merry, but had to shout what he wanted to say three times to be heard.

Frodo was growing more and more uncomfortable in these surroundings and it was becoming a challenge to mask it from his friends and Sam. When he finally decided that he wanted some space and fresh air, Frodo whispered quietly to Sam and got up from the table.

Frodo had told Sam that he was merely headed to the outhouse, not wanting for Sam to interrupt his evening. His intention was to return to the room they occupied, but at that moment, he forgot that Strider had the key. Sam had almost offered to go with his master until his cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

Strider had seen Frodo whisper something to Sam and watched as the hobbit got up from the table gingerly on his ankle and started to walk as best he could to a side door. The Ranger was not able to follow immediately for fear of drawing attention to his association with the hobbits. He waited a few more minutes before getting up and trying to follow.

Frodo had exited the door and stood for a few moments, working out the position of his room from this entrance. When he was satisfied that he knew which room was the correct one, he started to hobble the short distance, still forgetting that he did not have a key to the locked door.

Frodo went to turn the handle on the door and only then recalled that Strider had the key. He sighed out loud as he realised that he would have to endure some additional discomfort to his injured ankle to retrace his steps back to the bar-room to retrieve the key from the Ranger.

He had scarcely enough time to turn his head, when a large shadow approached him from behind. A small wave of fear ran through him, as he felt the figure physically grabbed him from behind by the shoulders. Frodo went to demand his release when he felt a rough hand placed over his mouth.

Frodo tried to struggle with his assailant and escape the captor's grip, when all of a sudden he was attacker moved to drag him to another nearby room. Again, he tried to free himself, but the hand over his mouth tightened more and the arm encircling his waist felt as though it was beginning to crush his chest. The frightened hobbit began to become disoriented and dizzy from the lack of oxygen.

He didn't have time to try and get a look at who was forcing him to go, or why. The man had altered his grip a little to the back of his collared jacket and continued pushing Frodo forward, showing no amount of concern if the hobbit was to trip or fall because of this. Bill Ferny's frustration grew as he lifted his struggling hostage off the ground, whilst trying to avoid the large sized feet that kicked out.

"Strider!" came a brief plea, as the door was opened and the hand was removed from his mouth for a brief moment. Frodo found himself flung inside a darkened room and the door slammed shut behind them to prevent any possibility of escape. He tried to regain his footing after stumbling after such harsh treatment and rubbed his hands together to massage the palms where he had fallen hardest.

From where he stood now, the hobbit was able to look upon the man who had snatched him. The man was unshaven and unkempt. His clothes were stained, and reeked of someone who had not bathed in a long time. The man was large set, and quite obese, but nonetheless too stronger than Frodo to have been able to overpower on his own.

"What do you want?" Frodo asked his assailant, trying to hide his fear.

"I want that little piece of gold I saw you carrying your neck earlier, halfling," the man barked, walking towards the trembling hobbit in a threatening manner.

"_I carry nothing,"_ Frodo replied, but his actions gave him away, as his hand flew to his throat and encircled the gold chain, feeling it between his fingers.

"We'll see about that," the man said, and roughly grabbed the hobbit so that his arm was wrapped around Frodo's slender neck.

"No, let me go!" Frodo cried out.

Frodo tried desperately to get the man's arm to release, even just a little, feeling his air supply slowly being cut off. His blue eyes were wild with fright, as he fought and struggled to gain his freedom.

"You are not going anywhere, my little friend," the man hissed in the hobbit's pointed ear, as his free hand began feeling around Frodo's shirt for the elusive gold trinket.

The man's large hands pawed at his shirt and vest, not caring if he tore the fabric or not. His fingers were calloused and rough against the smooth skin of Frodo's neck.

"No, you can't have it. No, you mustn't take it. Let me go!" Frodo said for a second time in desperation, but his voice was now hoarse and barely above a whisper.

The man knew none of the ring's history or its evil purpose. His eyes only saw greed and his mind and actions were driven by that avarice. He only sought what he thought was treasure that should not be in the hands of someone so small.

TO BE CONTINUED…………..

Okay, that's it for this chapter. I did mention at the end of the last one that there would be only two more chapters. This is a little undecided now, as this chapter was supposed to have a lot more happening in it, but due to the length, I split it again.

Up until now, it is assumed that Frodo has not put the ring on, and has not seen the 'Great Eye' nor alerted the Black Riders to its whereabouts. That will all be very early on in the next chapter as well as the journey from Bree to Weathertop.

I have not decided entirely what will happen between Bree and Rivendell, save for Frodo's stabbing on Weathertop. That will happen a little differently, only because I didn't like how it was portrayed in the FOTR, but still wanted a diversion from book canon.

The parts about the man grabbing Frodo and looking for the gold chain were written months and months ago, some time last year. It wasn't until very recently after trying to think of the cast of characters that would inhabit Bree that I decided it would be Bill Ferny. We will see more of Bill Ferny and Harry Goatleaf much much later in the storyline. My Bill Ferny does not follow the book as such and his description is entirely invented for the purposes of this story.

The scenes from the Brandywine River, apart from being aspired by Peter Jackson's wonderful movie adaptation, come my another fandom story for Bonanza that I wrote, called "Gypsy Curses" where I had another character floundering around in the water. If you recognize the scenes from somewhere else for those who read all my stories, this is most probably where you saw it. The only difference being that I did not think Frodo was ready for a bullet in addition to his other injuries smile.

Like I mentioned, a lot I wanted to write for this chapter held off until the next one, like the continuation of the Bill Ferny scene which has been split for this chapter, much as I tried not to.

Please let me know you are reading this story and let me know what you think. To the few who have, my humble thanks cannot be enough praise. I truly appreciate every review I get and save them all. If you haven't told me what you think in the other chapters, let me know this time around.

JULES


	12. Into The Wild

ESCAPE THE DARKNESS

Into the Wild

Replies to reviews received from last chapter:

_lotrgirl1415 – so glad you are sticking with this story. Time is not on my side over the last few months and this chapter was one of the hardest that I have written so far in this series. I just don't want to update for the sake of updating - I want the story to flow well for further chapters later and for readers to enjoy the journey I am trying to take them on._

_Iorhael – Thanks so much for reviewing - hopefully the next chapter will be ready as soon as I can. It is started - but slow going to include everything and all the tension that I need._

_The second part to Frodo and the Ruffian was actually written a long time ago - I just ended this chapter with the first half. I had a different idea about Frodo and the ring and by the time I finished this chapter I had changed it again - so now I have done it different to how it appears in the movie and the book._

_Please keep reading - it takes a while to get it all together and although this story will only have one chapter to go – but a very pivotal to the story, onto Rivendell for Strider and the hobbits which will prove to be a challenge all of its own. _

Lots of changes in mind - but will have to wait and see how they sound on the page.

Thanks to everyone who hasn't given up on this story being updated. It will be, I promise, but it will just take more time than I would like at times. I hope you all are enjoying the story. If you are, please let me know.

A recap of what happened at the end of the last chapter:

"Strider!" came the brief plea, as the door was opened and the hand was removed from his mouth for a brief moment. Frodo found himself flung inside a darkened room and the door slammed shut behind him as his captor took measures to prevent any possibility of escape. He tried to regain his footing after stumbling from the harsh treatment and rubbed his hands together to massage the palms where he had fallen hardest.

From where he stood now, the hobbit was able to look upon the man who had snatched him. The man was unshaven and unkempt. His clothes were stained, and reeked of someone who had not bathed in a long time. The man was large set, and quite obese, but, nonetheless much stronger than Frodo would have been able to overpower on his own.

"What do you want?" Frodo asked his assailant, trying to hide his fear.

"I want that little piece of gold I saw you carrying around your neck earlier, halfling," the man barked, walking towards the trembling hobbit in a threatening manner.

"_I carry nothing,"_ Frodo replied, but his own actions giving himself away, his hand flying to his throat and encircling the gold chain he felt between his fingers.

"We'll see about that," the man said, and roughly grabbed the hobbit so that his arm was wrapped around Frodo's slender neck.

"No, let me go!" Frodo cried out.

Frodo tried desperately to get the man's arm to release, even just a little, feeling his air supply slowly being cut off. His blue eyes wild with fright, as he fought and struggled to gain his freedom.

"You are not going anywhere my little friend," the man hissed in the hobbit's pointed ear as his greasy free hand began feeling around Frodo's shirt for the elusive gold trinket.

The man's large hands pawed at Frodo's shirt and jacket, not caring if the fabric was torn or not. His fingers were calloused and rough against the smooth skin around his neck.

"No, you can't have it! No, you mustn't take it! Let me go!" Frodo said for a second time in desperation, his voice now sounding hoarse and barely above a whisper.

The man knew none of the ring's history or its evil purpose. His eyes only saw greed and his mind and actions were driven by that avarice. He sought what he thought was treasure that should not be in the hands of someone so small.

_now on with the next chapter: _

A few moments before Frodo found himself at the mercy of Ferny's pawing hands; inside the bar-room, Strider was getting more and more concerned about the hobbit's whereabouts.

The concern also began to show on Sam's kind face, causing Merry and Pippin to note their cousin's disappearance. All thoughts of the ale in front of them was forgotten as they wondered what could be keeping the dark-haired hobbit from returning.

Strider didn't say anything to the hobbits when he passed so close to their table, but all three hobbits understood the gesture to be a silent signal that he was going out to try and find the missing Frodo.

Of course, the Ranger would have not wanted any of the hobbits to follow his movements in search of Frodo. He would not have wanted to put themselves into any further danger should it present itself. But with Merry and Pippin being too curious for their own good and Sam down right determined when it came to his master's welfare, there would have been little he could have done to prevent them.

As soon as the appropriate deemed time had elapsed between Strider's departure from the room, the hobbits got up from the table and went together in search of their missing friend and kin.

Once out of view of the local bar-room patrons of Bree, Strider used years of stealthy movement to try and figure out where Frodo might be without drawing any unnecessary attention to himself.

Unfortunately, three untrained hobbits moving as a group, lacking the skills of travelling without sound or the ability to go unnoticed, had not been counted on. Strider had seen the group from the darkened niche he was using and with a quick hand was able to grab at Sam.

The honey-haired hobbit made a brief squawk before he realised who had touched his shoulder. Strider put a finger to his lips, indicating the hobbits to be silent whilst he tried to take a further look around the immediate area.

Strider had just begun to explore the darkened area surrounding of the "Prancing Pony" when a strangulated cry came from his left. The Ranger immediately turned his head towards the cry as did the three hobbits, all recognizing the voice as belonging to Frodo.

"Strider!" came a brief plea again and before any of them could react, they heard the sound of a door being opened. The shadowy figures revealed what appeared to be large burly man holding a vulnerable Frodo captive before him and then flinging the struggling hobbit inside a darkened room and the door slammed shut behind them.

Sam wanted to call out after his master, but didn't want to put Frodo in any more danger than he was already in. The hobbit made as if to run out, but Strider held him back, wanting to protect them as much as rescue Frodo.

Strider knew that time wasn't on his side and he had to make quick decisions, even if he couldn't protect all of the hobbits all at once. For the moment, the most important thing was to rescue the ring-bearer.

The Ranger ran off into the shadows, away from the hobbits for the time being. At first Merry and Pippin didn't know what he was doing, but together all three of them agreedthat they would have to try and rescue Frodo.

Without any kind of planning involved on their part, the hobbits rushed towards the door that they had seen the man force Frodo through. Nothing else mattered, and they gave little thought that they would be out of their element attempting such a dangerous task. But they kept reminding themselves that they needed to get to Frodo.

The door to the room burst open with tremendous force, leaving Sam, Merry and Pippin standing at the entrance. Two of them had a weapon of some sorts in their hands, Merry a chair from the bar-room and Pippin a candelabra he had confiscated. Sam was standing in front of the two younger hobbits with his fists raised in a fighting stance.

"Sam!" Frodo gasped as best he could with his constricted airway. His appearance was dishevelled and the expression one of being scared.

"_Let him go or I will have you long-shanks_," Sam demanded in his toughest voice. His bravery quickly waned though as he saw the terrified look in his master's eyes and the bulging arm around Frodo's neck.

"Or you will what?" the man demanded, laughing heartily at the hobbit's efforts to gain their friend's release. The man extracted another sharp wince of pain from Frodo just to torment the others a little more.

The three hobbits were hoping to use their advantage in numbers to try and win against Frodo's captor, but upon seeing the size of the man who held their struggling friend, their courage all but disappeared and was replaced by a sense of helplessness.

Unbeknown to the ruffian, Aragorn had chosen a different way to enter the room. The man had not heard the outside window slowly slide upwards and his approach from behind with soft footsteps went undetected.

It wasn't until Frodo's attacker felt the tip of a knife blade against his own throat that he even knew the Ranger was there. Aragorn was a great deal taller than the assailant and had no trouble towering over him menacingly.

"Let him go _now_!" Aragorn demanded, noticing that Frodo face was getting paler and paler. To add action to his words, the Ranger pushed the tip of the blade against the man's skin a little harder.

The man didn't back off though and to show his rebelliousness, tightened his arm around Frodo's neck even more, making the hobbit gasp out in discomfort as he felt himself lifted from the floor slightly. He was still using his own hands to try and pry the man's arm away so he could breath.

Aragorn heard Frodo's cry of pain and this only incensed him even more towards the ruffian. "If you hurt him, I will kill you," Aragorn whispered quietly into the man's ear, once again using the tip of his sword to emphasis his words.

Sam and the other hobbits were a little surprised at the venom in the Ranger's voice. They knew he cared for Frodo very much, but this was the first time they had heard Strider threaten anybody that would endanger his life.

The ruffian realised that he wasn't going to get his hands on the gold ring tonight but he still needed to get away. Without warning to Aragorn or the other hobbits, the man now thrust Frodo bodily towards the centre of the room, making the hobbit fall over awkwardly onto his side.

Aragorn and the other hobbits were too concerned about seeing if Frodo was alright to try and stop the man from fleeing the room and then the tavern.

Sam was the first beside his master trying to assess how he was. "Mr Frodo, what did he do to you?"

"Are you alright little one?" Aragorn asked gently as he knelt down beside a still trembling and shaking Frodo. The hobbit was trying to pull himself into a sitting position. He didn't look to be hurt, just a little scared and stunned at what had transpired.

Frodo nodded, not sure of himself to use spoken words for a few seconds. He looked around and saw only concerned looks and worry on the faces of his friends. He tried to give them a wan smile to indicate that they needn't worry so about him.

There were clear red marks around his pale, slim neck indicating the amount of pressure that had been applied. Aragorn didn't think there would be a bruise as a result, but knew Frodo might have an incredibly sore throat for a day or so and find trouble in swallowing for a time.

"We tried to follow him when he grabbed you Frodo but he was just too quick for us and then he locked the door," Merry said trying to justify why he and the others had taken so long to come to his cousin's aid.

Aragorn briefly left the room and came back with a jug of cool water and a cup. He filled the cup and handed it to Frodo, allowing the hobbit a little bit of independence but ready to assist should his hands tremble too much.

"Thank you," Frodo whispered in a croaky voice as he pulled the cup away, having drunk half of the contents. The water had soothed his throat a little.

"What did that man want Frodo?" Pippin asked.

Frodo now got to his feet with a steading hand from Sam and walked the short distance to one of the beds in the room. "He said he wanted the ring," he replied plainly.

"You still have it don't you Frodo?" Strider enquired.

"Yes, I think he was only after it for the gold it was made out of. If only it were such a trinket of gold," Frodo said in hindsight. "I would have gladly given it too him if it was that simple," he added, his thoughts once again becoming clouded by darker images.

Pippin had pulled a blanket off one of the other beds in the room and now draped it around Frodo's shoulders, trying to reassure his cousin as best he knew how. The youngest hobbit knew that he wasn't brave like the Ranger, or clever like his cousin Merry, but he would offer his comfort and support whenever he could, the only way he knew how, through love.

Strider made sure that the hobbits were once again securely in the room he had rented and posted himself near the front door in case there was going to be any further disturbance that night.

His gaze kept wandering back to Frodo, as he tried to perceive how much effect the kidnapping attempt had had on the gentle natured hobbit. Although it could be said that he had withdrawn into himself considerably since returning to the room, there was something else about his posture and the way his shoulders were slightly slumped that suggested the incident had a much deeper affect.

Sam had tried his best to involve his master in idle conversation, all the time making sure that Frodo was warm enough and that he had enough to drink to help his sore throat.

Merry and Pippin were growing weary due mostly from the consumption of ale in the bar-room earlier, and the two younger hobbits were steadily on their way to sleep.

Frodo looked over at them briefly and smiled, thankful that they had not been put in any danger and that they had been able to put such an incident behind them just as quickly.

He too felt tired and worn, but the kidnap attempt had left a heightened sense of alert that he couldn't deny. Every muscle fibre was ready to move at the slightest hint of trouble, causing his body to fight the signs of fatigue.

Sam too grew tired, but even with his master's assurances, wouldn't leave Frodo's side that night until his master was asleep. He intended to sleep closer to Frodo tonight and be ready to defend any assailant should that become necessary.

Frodo realised that the only way he was going to get his best friend to get some rest of his own was to feign sleep. He lay down and drew one of the blankets about his shoulders more and set aside the mug of water he had been continually sipping at to sooth his throat. It still felt scratchy, as he ran his fingers gently over the area.

"Your throat still bothering you some is it, Mr Frodo," Sam asked worriedly, fussing a little with the blankets on the bed. "I could make you some soothing tea if you like?"

"No thank you, Sam," Frodo answered in a sleepy voice, allowing his eyes to drift slowly closed and his breathing slowing in rhythm.

"Best to let him sleep for a time, Sam," Strider whispered from his position near the door. He could see the stout hobbit's desire to take care of his master, but Frodo also needed to rest. He was still recovering from the events in the Brandywine River and there was no way of knowing if the attempted kidnapping would affect his health further.

"I best turn in myself," Sam commented. "But, I'll not be leaving tonight, Sir. If you take my meaning."

"I have no doubt you will keep him safe," Strider said with a smile.

An hour and a half later, Frodo awoke with a start, realising that he had done just what he hadn't wanted to, fall asleep. He looked quickly over towards Sam and saw that his friend had not heard him wake. Merry and Pippin were still curled beside each other across the room and Strider was resting in the bed he had occupied earlier in the day, closer to the door.

Frodo sat up on the bed, careful not wake his sleeping companions. Strider was the one he suspected would stir at the slightest sound, but so far, the Ranger had remained silent and his features relaxed in slumber.

The room was dark with a thin beam of natural like came through the window where a curtain did not completely cover the glass. Frodo was grateful for the solitude as his mind began thinking back to the events from earlier. Until now, it had been impressed on him by Gandalf and even Bilbo how important the "one ring" was.

And though he had fooled himself in to believing that he knew how dangerous it could be in the wrong hands, like those of Sauron. He had never really understood why others such as mortal men would be so interested in it. The man who had grabbed him had seen it merely as a trinket to gain.

_flashback scene:_

Bilbo had possession of the ring for over sixty years. Thinking back he tried to recall mood swings or patterns in his uncle's behaviour that would indicate that the ring was controlling his actions and his speech. Frodo allowed his mind to drift back, until he could see himself standing in Bag End.

It was now that he remembered one day in particular when his Uncle had perhaps seemed a little _preoccupied _but at the time he had thought it nothing to get too concerned about.

By the following morning, Bilbo had returned to his usual cheerful self at the breakfast table. Frodo could recall his Uncle's apprehension that morning in the study. He had idly strolled in, looking for a book he could take with him on his walk to sit beneath the tree.

Bilbo had worn a strained expression that morning. When his Frodo had asked him if anything was the matter, Bilbo had appeared quite panicked about the whole situation and asked his nephew if he had seen his ring.

It was one of his uncle's treasures that was known about, but rarely put on display. Usually Bilbo walked around with it in his coat pocket, and could often he seen with his hand inside the pocket, fondling it and reassuring himself that it was still present.

Frodo had not seen it, neither that morning, or indeed for quite a few weeks. "No, Uncle I am sorry, but I haven't. Do you want me to help you look for it?" he had asked, a little concerned. In response to the question, Bilbo seemed even more at a loss for his missing treasure and began rifling through papers and other niches within he study that perhaps he had been careless enough to leave the ring by accident.

"Are you sure you will be alright?" Frodo had recalled asking, feeling more in the way than of a help in finding the heirloom.

"Yes, yes, go outside for your walk," Bilbo had said with his back turned, but his tone of voice leaving Frodo to ponder whether or not his uncle was displeased with him or not.

Frodo had gone on his walk as suggested, but even sitting and attempting to relax under the large tree, his thoughts wandered back to his Uncle back at Bag End, hurriedly searching for the ring. He couldn't get past reading the first page of the book he had brought.

Finally, he had given up and walked back to Bag End, expecting that his Uncle would still be in a flap, pulling the study apart until he had found what he so desperately sought.

To Frodo's surprise, his Uncle was seated at the kitchen table when he entered, sipping at a freshly made brew and offering his nephew a cup also. It had never been spoken openly, but Frodo saw this as his Uncle's way of apologizing for his dismissive mood a few hours ago.

"Did you find your ring, Uncle?" Frodo asked calmly, thinking that Bilbo wouldn't be sitting idly at the table if it was still missing.

"Yes, my dear boy, I did," Bilbo answered, his hand once again finding its way into his jacket pocket. "I did indeed," he added, with relief clearly written across his face.

_end of flashback scene:_

Sitting on the bed, behind the Prancing Pony in Bree, had Frodo been fooled all these years and not recognized his Uncle's need and desire to possess the ring. Did it have a much stronger hold than he had been led to believe?

The disappearing prank at the birthday party, barely two weeks ago had seen his Uncle the centre of attention. The hobbit guests had loved the vanishing trick and thought it just another one of Bilbo's peculiarities. Had they been wrong?

Then there were other times just after the party that Frodo now recalled also. Like Gandalf's warnings about its potency before his sudden departure just after his uncle. Frodo looked over at the still dozing Strider and remembered how the Ranger had recoiled almost as though the ring were poison when shown to him.

It was then that Frodo decided to make a decision that would haunt him for the rest of his life. A decision that ultimately would shape his fate and those of his loved ones and friends, though the consequences were yet too distant to see.

"I have to know for myself," Frodo declared to himself. He pulled the ring out from underneath his shirt, still suspended on the chain. Lifting it over his neck, the hobbit now held it out in front of him and searched for some sort of sign about what he was about to do.

What would happen when he put the ring on? Would he disappear like Bilbo did? A trick only to reappear somewhere else close, even within this very room perhaps? There were more questions than answers to be explored and it seemed that speculating on the outcome, made him think of a dozen others to ask.

The ring did not appear to be any different to how it had looked before. The gold gave a lustrous shine, but that didn't give Frodo any real answers to what its real purpose was. The edge of the band was smooth as he ran a fingertip over the surface. There were no blemishes or spots on the metal surface that he could detect. There were no ridges or unevenness of thickness to show where it had been worn by an individual.

Frodo now took the ring off the chain and laid it in his open hand. To his surprise there appeared to be no weight that he could sense. He frowned a little, thinking that when they had been trapped underneath the tree and hiding from the Black Rider, he could have sworn that it had felt as though there was an energy and warmth to it that could not be noticed by merely looking at it.

The hobbit felt that same energy and warmth now. As though the ring were inviting him to put it on. Frodo looked about the room, still seeing his companions sleeping.

"What harm could it do?" he whispered, before holding up the ring ready to place it on his hand.

Strider, had been dozing closer to the door of the room where they were all staying. What had awoken him he did not know, but his senses were fully alert. As though he expected an attack from a foe at any moment. When he looked around, a small dagger drawn and ready to strike in his hand, but he could not see the enemy that he sensed.

When looking towards Frodo and Sam's bed, Aragorn saw the dark-haired hobbit sitting upright on the bed and preoccupied with something in his hand. A glint of gold from the chain revealed the true horror that was about to befall the unsuspecting hobbit.

"NO! Frodo!"

Sam and the other two hobbits had startled awake at the Ranger's loud cry. He turned to look at his master beside him, but did not see the same danger that Strider did. He caught a glimpse of Frodo holding the ring in his hand. Before he or Merry and Pippin could determine what was happening, Strider was trying to cross the room and prevent Frodo from putting the ring on his hand.

"Stop him, Sam!" Strider shouted.

Sam immediately trying to obey and wrap his hands around the slender ones of his master, but alas he was not quick enough. A cry of shock came from the stout hobbit as his master all but vanished before his very eyes.

"Mr Frodo!" Sam cried out, lifting the sheets for any sign of his master, not being able to think rationally. "Where has he gone?" he asked the Ranger as Strider reached the bed a second too late.

"He has put the ring on," Strider said plainly, but with panic in his voice. Fear for what such an action would do to Frodo, but what peril it would also bring to them all.

"What does that mean?" Merry asked, worried about his cousin. Pippin looked just as shocked and scared as Sam. To have Frodo just vanish before them was almost too muchto contemplate.

"Sam, he is still there on the bed, but we _must _get that ring off his hand," Strider instructed, trying to injected as much emphasis into his words as possible without scaring the hobbits any more than they were already.

Strider looked to wrap his arms around a small form on the bed, though there was nothing between his hands to make them believe that it was Frodo that he held. Sam tried to do what was asked of him and grasp his master's hands.

_heading into the Wraith world with Frodo:_

_As soon as Frodo had put the ring on his hand, there was an enormous roaring sound. __Then……… nothing. As though the world had gone completely silent._

_Frodo felt as though he was now outside, not in the room where he had been a few moments ago. _

_There was not a breath of wind, and the darkness seemed to create a giant vacuum where everything from the roadway to the spindly trees on the other side was a distorted and twisted reality._

_The sky over head was dark, with grey clouds that looked much more fearsome than any rain cloud he had seen before in the Shire._

_Frodo jerked his head around violently as he heard a screech. The same screech __he had heard on the Wooded Road a few days ago in the forest. A black rider was __coming…………_

_The hobbit turned as though to run, but his gaze was drawn to something more terrifying._

_An eye. Its gaze piercing through him and seeking out his soul._

_Lidless, but ever seeing. _

_Frodo lifted his arms as though to shield himself from the relentless stare, unable __to look away himself but feeling as though he were been drawn closer and closer._

_To drown in that endless see of fire that surrounded him and to burn for an eternity._

"_I see you" _

_Frodo could only guess that the voice came from the eye. His terror knew no bounds __as he heard himself scream._

"_There is no life in the void, only death"_

_Frodo screamed once more, this time feeling as though he were being pulled. He struggled against it, thinking it to be the entity before him and bringing him to his doom._

"Mr Frodo!" Sam said as finally he managed with all of his strength to hold the flailing arms still for a brief second. Sam was the one to pull the ring off, quickly dropping in onto the table beside the bed. He didn't want any further part in touching the foul thing.

What Frodo had felt with the pulling was Strider gathering him around the waist and then Sam attempting to restrain him to remove the ring. He had struggled against his friends, thinking it to be the enemy wanting to do him harm.

With the ring now removed and his struggles ceasing, the hobbit's energy levels waning quickly and he sagged on the bed, almost collapsing onto the bedclothes. It was Sam who had prevented this and merely held onto the paler hobbit strongly and sobbed with relief at his return.

The fear was still flowing wildly through Frodo though and the normally gentle hobbit broke free of Sam and scrambled off the bed, backing away from his friends, still trying to comprehend what he had just experienced.

Strider tried to approach the halfling, seeing the expression in his eyes as one of bemused horror. "Frodo," he said in a low voice, attempting to reassure the startled hobbit, but his steps only caused him to retreat further.

Frodo looked back at his two cousins and then back at Sam, trying to make sense of what had just happened. His hands flew to his face as though he was trying to block everything out that he had just seen.

Fear then began to subside a little with comforting words and encouragement from his friends, but Frodo's facial expression changed to one of pain, his hands now going to his scalp. He winced at a fresh stab of pain from a headache that had just emerged.

"Are you alright, Mr Frodo?" Sam asked, seeing the pinched look on his master.

"I have this awful headache," Frodo admitted as he lowered his head and closed his eyes to withstand the next wave of pain pulsing through his skull. He had never experienced a headache beginning so quickly.

"Why did you disappear like that, Frodo?" Pippin asked innocently, not fully understanding the implications of what his elder cousin had done.

"Frodo disappeared because he put the ring on," Strider answered for the paler hobbit.

"You must _not _do that again, Frodo!" he said with emphasis in every word.

Frodo nodded mutely, not only to agree with the Ranger's instructions, but because he didn't want to openly admit to the others that he knew what would happen if he did try and use the circlet of gold.

"I think its time we all got some rest," Strider suggested, knowing that Frodo did not want to talk about his experience, with him or even Sam. He could see the profound effect that the ring had on the halfling, even during those brief few seconds he wore it.

Merry and Pippin wanted to protest and speak more with Frodo, but a shake of Sam's head at them, told them that the stout hobbit had no intentions of letting them do so.

Frodo took a few more moments before coming back towards the bed. He had no intentions of sleeping, but didn't want to alarm Sam further. He turned his back towards the others in the room, but lay wide awake, where they couldn't see the fear that was still present.

Strider resumed his watch from near the doorway, able to see that Frodo was not sleeping. He could see the questions written across his features and the doubt that plagued him about what the rest of this journey might bring for him and his friends.

About three hours later, Frodo had finally fallen into a light repose, much to the Ranger's relief. His sleep was not deep, but at least his body was resting. It was difficult to know if his mind was doing the same.

On the roadway towards Bree, the mud and puddled water was disturbed with haste by the thunderous roar of horses hooves. Four beasts made their way through the darkened night with billowing, shadowed riders upon their backs.

Frodo's eyes snapped open. At first he couldn't determine what had awoken him, but his heart was beating at an increasing rate. He sat up abruptly and cocked his head as though listening for a sound.

"STRIDER!" Frodo shouted in fear scrambling off the bed once more, but this time in order to wake his sleeping cousins. They needed to flee and quickly before they were found.

"They are coming this way!" Frodo continued to shout, trying to put as much urgency into his voice as possible. "We have to get out of here, _now!" _

The frightened halfling looked towards the Ranger and saw that he too had noticed an unfamiliar presence. "Quickly, we must exit this room another way," he said, gathering the four smaller folk behind him. What scared Merry and Pippin the most was the sight of Strider bearing a large knife in his hand, ready to protect them.

"What is coming?" Sam asked, frightened himself, but more so about his master. Frodo was in a similar state of mind to how they had found him in his own room back in Hobbiton the night they had fled without warning.

"Black Riders," Frodo whispered, not daring to speak any louder. The ring that had been placed back into his breast pocket, seemed to be humming. He tried to place his hand over the area to feel the vibration he sensed.

Strider herded the four frightened hobbits into the smaller room that had been reserved for them by Barliman. He had to crouch down and his height was a little more than awkward, but it would provide a better hiding place and conceal their presence better than most other rooms at the Prancing Pony.

In the pitch blackness of the small room, the four hobbits tried as best they could to adjust their eyes to the darkness. Aragorn was a little more experienced in doing so, having spent many nights in the open air and relying on other senses rather than trust his sight.

Merry and Pippin had attempted to pull themselves up a little and look through the window, but Aragorn held them back and shook his head negatively at them. Sam watched his master with concern, though he didn't voice them out loud.

The temperature both inside the room and outside in the cobbled streets grew cooler. As though any possible sources of warm and light had been taken away. The air grew still, not a breath of wind could be detected and no sound only added to the tension.

In his mind, Frodo could hear the pounding of hooves and the haste of those that came closer. They rode their beasts at full gallop, through the wet mud along the roadway and the pools of stagnant water that dotted their path.

Frodo put his hands over his ears, trying to block out the screeching that the others could not hear. Aragorn and Sam noted the dark-haired hobbit's distressed state, and wished they could help him, but for the moment, they needed to remain concealed until the threat had passed.

Harry Goatleaf approached the large wooden gate, hearing the sound of horses approaching. Without warning, he found himself being propelled backwards and underneath the wooden door as it was knock down by a flailing of hooves. The Black Riders paying no heed to the man being wedged beneath their mounts and falling victim to their thunderous charge into the town of Bree.

The Riders continued their gallop, being guided by the sense that the "One Ring" was very close. The were four black riders, cloaked in black and their faces replaced by shadow and emptiness. Each of them bearing a blade etched in black and having menacing sharp and jaggered edges.

The temperature dropped again as the four pulled their horses to a halt outside the "Pranching Pony". The four hobbits were now collectively holding their breaths and their eyes wide with fear that their hiding place would soon be discovered. Sam wrapped his arms protectively about his master's shoulders and couldn't help but notice the trembling that was plaguing Frodo.

Aragorn watched as the macabre figures glided through the door of the Prancing Pony, with swords in their hands and malice in their hearts to slay all before them that stood between them and the ring.

With a chilling screech that echoed through every part of the Inn, the Ranger watched as the four riders upturned tables, chairs and beds in the room they had occupied only a few minutes before. Merry and Pippin both held their hands over their mouths as an added precaution about making noise, soft whimpers of horror could still be detected.

Frodo had lost all sense of time that had passed until he felt someone else's hands on his own, lifting them from his ears and urging him to look up. When he did so reluctantly, he gazed in to the worried faces of his two cousins, and the worried warm ones of Sam.

"Looks like they are gone for now, Mr Frodo," Sam said, attempting to reassure his master, but still seeing the fear in those soulful blue eyes.

Frodo looked about the room they occupied dubiously, as though not believing such to be the truth. They had felt so near that he shivered from the mere thought of how close to danger they had all become.

"Is everyone alright?" Aragorn questioned the hobbits. Merry and Pippin both gave a slight nod, but their startled expressions and closeness to each other signalled how frightened they had been.

"We will stay where we are for now and rest as best we can before leaving in a few hours," Aragorn informed them.

"Leave?" Merry asked, sounding surprised at such a suggestion. "But it is in the middle of the night"

"That is correct Master Merry and though I would choose a different time to continue our journey if I could, the events of tonight have dictated that we must leave as soon as possible. I will delay our departure by a few hours to allow some more sleep as tomorrow's journey may be arduous and long," Strider explained.

"How is your headache and ankle, Frodo?" Strider asked, knowing that when they needed to travel, that the hobbit would not be in too much discomfort.

Frodo was reluctant to give much information to his physical well-being. Instead skipping around the edges and hoping that what little he did give would satisfy the Ranger.

"For the moment it is bearable, Strider. I take heed of your words and know that we have more pressing matters at hand than my aches and pains," Frodo answered.

Strider was a little disappointed at the impenetrable wall that the hobbit was building around himself. Frodo had spoken nothing of what he had seen when he put the ring on, and the Ranger was certain that he would flatly refuse to do so.

"Wait here and I will gather our remaining belongings from the other room. It would be better than you all prepare to rest and be prepared to leave at short notice," the Ranger told them.

The hobbits nodded their heads in agreement, but silently all of them knew that wild horses could not have dragged any of them back into the room they had occupied earlier.

To Merry, Pippin and Sam, the room was a place of fear and they were too frightened to venture in there to be reminded of the Black Riders that they had encountered.

To Frodo, the room presented more of a psychological barrier than just fear itself. Being afraid of something was very personal and private and although all may feel it or experience it in their lifetime, the level of that fear and which form it took on was very different.

The three did not want the Ranger to leave, but knew it was necessary to gather their remaining meagre possessions in order to continue the journey. They gathered together on one of the hobbit sized beds and this is where they stayed until Strider returned.

Strider had re-entered the room allocated to him and the hobbits and was thankful that the smaller folk had no intentions of seeing what destruction had left behind in the wake of the Black Riders.

The beds were overturned and the mattresses shredded until the floor of the room was completely littered in soft downing feathers. The iron bed-heads had been twisted and now lay at various angles, left exactly how they were discarded

The shirt that Frodo had been wearing when he plunged into the Brandywine River had been left on a makeshift string line in one corner of the room. Sam had hoped to salvage it for use until they could replace, hating the idea that his master's well made clothes had been stained dark with silt mud and torn in a number of places.

What remnants of the shirt were left were now laying on the floor, with one sleeve quite a distance away. The was the unmistakable slash of a sword blade through the left breast pocket.

Strider was mindful of leaving the hobbits any longer than absolutely necessary. Thankfully, because of the scattering of bed clothes as the beds were overturned, some of the blankets and quilts found underneath the mattresses were still intact.

On one there was a torn corner and a large gash through another that rendered it useless, but the Ranger was able to find four that would certainly be of benefit once they were travelling in the open elements once more.

Strider gave a signal to the hobbits, letting them know who was coming in, but it did not stop them jumping slightly at the knock. It was clear to him that they had all stared warily at the door, not daring to move from the bed. The three gave an audible sigh of relief when they saw it was the Ranger with their belongings and an armful of blankets.

An hour later, Strider and Frodo had convinced Merry and Pippin to sleep and Sam was not far away from repose himself. Sam had wanted to watch after Frodo, but found his eyes betraying him and growing heavier and heavier. Strider reassured him that he would watch over them all until it was necessary for them to leave.

Strider had wanted Frodo to sleep as well, but it soon became quite clear that the dark-haired hobbit had very little intention of doing so. For the moment, Frodo was content enough with the Ranger's quite company, lost in his own thoughts of what had taken place this night.

Strider tried to watch Frodo's facial expressions as his eyebrows quirked a little, and he nervously played with the hem of his jacket. Once or twice, those beautiful blue eyes began to well up with tears, but Frodo pulled on all of his strength and forbade them to fall.

Frodo now got to his feet and walked over to the Ranger, glancing briefly back at the sight of his two sleeping cousins and the peaceful appearance of Sam's features.

"What are they?" Frodo asked, his question brief, but clearly a burning curiosity that could no longer be held back.

Strider allowed the smoke from his pipe to curl for a few moments before answering, partially pondering the best way to answer the question. How much did he tell the hobbit? How much of it did he understand himself? Was Frodo prepared to hear the truth and how would that affect the way he felt about the journey that lay ahead?

Finally, removing the stem of his pipe from his mouth, and looking intently out the window as he spoke, but able to glance out of the corner of his eye and note that he had the hobbit's undivided attention.

Frodo deserved to hear all that he knew. It was only fair and then it would be up to him what he did with the information. He may decide to believe it only to be a tale told long ago and take no heed of what was said. Or he may choose to use the Ranger's knowledge to his advantage and be a little more prepared the next time they would encounter the Black Riders.

This was something Strider did not have to think about. Unfortunately, he knew that they were destined to meet again. Where and when were yet to be determined and perhaps would decide the fate of them all.

"They were once men. Great Kings of men. Nine of them and worldly wise some have said. Then Sauron gave to them nine rings of power."

"Nine," Frodo whispered, indicating that he had been indeed paying attention to the Ranger's every word. "What happened to them?" he found himself asking.

"Some say they fell from grace as only men can. Driven by their own greed and lust for power. To have something that others do not and to demand recognition for deeds that were not their own."

"Bilbo said once that is why Hobbiton and the Shire were such special places. That they were mostly untouched by the greed of men and the corruption that came with their ways of money and wealth. That many hold material things above more the more important things in life like family, friends and love," Frodo spoke.

Strider nodded his head in acknowledgement, knowing this to be true. It was one of the reasons he became a Ranger in the first place and he had come to know first hand how different the hobbit way of life had become to many of the other larger races of Middle-Earth.

"There are other story-tellers that say the men were deceived by Sauron. Deception and greed are known to follow each other and which ever version you wish to believe, their decline and eventual fall into darkness was the same."

"Are they ghosts?" Frodo asked, thinking it to be the best way to describe their evil presence. Though their hooded faces and evil malice, was nothing like any ghosts he had heard of in Bilbo's stories.

"They are known as the Nazgul. Ring Wraiths. At all times, they feel the presence of the one ring. They are neither living or dead, but servants to Sauron's will," Strider explained.

Frodo swallowed the lump that was in his throat, not being able to think of a worse fate for anyone. Whilst he did not feel sympathy for them, nor compassion, something about the way Strider spoke, sent a shiver up his spine that he couldn't deny. To never knowpeace, even in death, was something that this small hobbit could not contemplate.

Strider ensure that the hobbit, although disturbed by what he had just been told, was facing him as he uttered a final warning about the Black Rider's intentions. He spoke in a soft but firm whisper to avoid the others waking, placing a hand on the smaller shoulder: "They will never stop hunting you whilst you are in possession of the ring."

Frodo nodded slowly, acknowledging the grim warning, but not finding it easy to put into words his feelings to such a decree. After gathering his thoughts a little more and gazing back at the three sleeping figures in the beds behind them, Frodo changed the subject entirely and focused on those he cared most about.

The Ranger could see Frodo struggling with what he wanted to say. He was patient and allowed the hobbit as much time as he needed.

"Somehow I have to protect them, Strider. All of them. My kin, Sam. I couldn't bear it if something was to happened to them. Sam's coming was of his own choice, though I would be lying if I didn't voice my reluctance to his coming with me. Merry and Pippin wanted to come with us, despite the warnings of a dangerous and unknown path."

Strider continued to listen, grateful for this small opportunity for Frodo to reveal his true thoughts and fears about the journey ahead.

"I would send them home if I could, even now. But the thought of sending them back on the treacherous road we have ventured down so far, is too hideous to think about. And if they continue with me now, I cannot guarantee them safe passage, or even a roof over their heads at night and a hot meal in their bellies," Frodo said, the depression beginning to enclose around him.

Strider took Frodo's smaller hands in his own, giving them a squeeze in friendship, and noting the slight trembling, but trying to pass on some reassurance and strength to this hobbit that put everyone's safety before his own, even though his life was probably more in danger.

Frodo gave a small smile in return for the Ranger's compassion and empathy at such a difficult cross-roads. No doubt it would be one of many on this journey, but being one of the first major decisions that he had to face.

"I promise, we will protect them together, Frodo," Strider said, his voice emphasising the honesty of his words.

After this very revealing, but private conversation between the two of them, Frodo did as Strider bade and lay down to rest for a time until they would need to leave. Unfortunately, the time to depart soon came and Frodo had only drifted into sleep for about an hour, before he felt the gentle hand of Sam upon his shoulder, urging him awake.

Sam had left waking his master as long as possible, regretting that he had to do it at all. He gently shook Frodo's shoulders, "Sorry to wake you, Mr Frodo, but Strider says we need to get going."

Strider had made no response at overhearing the stout hobbit's words, but smiled to himself at Sam's laying idle blame on another where his master was concerned.

To the Ranger's knowledge, Sam had not listened to the words exchanged between himself and Frodo about the Black Riders and their true purpose, but it was clear to the gardener that his master had little, if no sleep, and that something was still deeply troubling him.

Frodo got dressed quietly and made sure that everything was in order to leave, but it was this same silence that drew concerned looks from Merry and Pippin as well towards their older cousin. They knew Frodo's mannerisms well and when the dark-haired hobbit did not speak a word to anyone, they too knew that something was not right.

Just like when Frodo had first injured his ankle, Strider's solution to allowing Frodo to walk with as little pain and discomfort as possible was to pad it thickly again and then wrap it tightly for support. The skin was still dark with bruising, but thankfully Frodo had not suffered further damage to the tendons from the rough treatment he had been forced to endure from the Ruffian for those few terrifying moments.

Merry and Pippin had appeared most interested in Strider's technique of wrapping Frodo's ankle. The Ranger decided to lighten the mood within the party as much as possible and let this be part of their first lesson in learning about healing.

Pippin had even been allowed to wrap the wide bandage around Frodo's ankle, for which he had received good encouragement at first until a barely held back wince escaped Frodo's lips as Pippin's clumsy hands probed the tender bruising.

Frodo had reassured the youngster that his efforts were very good for his first time, but Pippin had allowed Strider to complete the task for fear of causing more pain to his cousin.

It was still very early morning and the sun had yet to fully rise, but this was part of the Ranger's plan. Giving enough light to travel by, but still offering them enough protection in the shadows to leave without being noticed or drawing unnecessary attention to the direction they walked.

During his trip into the markets of Bree, Strider had been able to obtain a good amount of dried foods that would sustain them for a time until fresh meat could be found. He also bought more fresh fruit which included the apples that Frodo was so fond of.

Merry and Pippin had look aghast at the Ranger when told that their breakfast would be of a loaf of bread with no butter and some cheese that Sam still had in his supplies.

Strider felt sorry for them, knowing that the young hobbits were unaccustomed to such a different way of meal times.

The Ranger assured them that they would have a hot meal later in the day when they set up camp. Frodo was happy enough for now to chew on one of the freshly bought apples. It was easy to eat as they walked and didn't hinder their pace.

Merry and Pippin had shared the loaf of bread and the cheese, offering some to Sam, who graciously accepted some of the cheese, but left the bread. He too ate one of the apples, though he noted that their taste was somewhat bland to what he was used to eating back in the Shire.

The hobbits and the Ranger had successfully made it out of Bree without being noticed, much to their relief. It had actually gone a little more smoother than Strider had anticipated, and he silently praised the level-headedness of all the hobbits, in a place that could quickly become dangerous if the circumstances allowed.

As they reach the last of the outskirts of the town, near a stable for horses, Frodo, had been travelling a little behind the others, stopped and looked back.

"What are you doing, Mr Frodo?" Sam asked, wondering if his master had seen something move out of the ordinary.

"Just making a memory, Sam," Frodo answered simply. He drew a breath in and closed his beautiful blue eyes and then opened them again, but slowly this time, taking in the time of day, the sunlight just beginning to appear overhead through the clouds.

Sam smiled at such a gesture, thinking it a little odd, but having no intentions of voicing his opinion. Being a gentle-hobbit, Mr Frodo probably looked at a lot of things in this world different to him. Being a simple hobbit and never having ventured this far, Sam was fairly sure he would never remember any of this strange new scenery even if he stopped long enough to do so.

Strider, Merry and Pippin had waited for Frodo and Sam to catch up by a large tree. Beyond this tree was a wooded area. They needed to make sure that everyone kept together and were safe. This was not a time for any of them to get separated and have to wander alone in unfamiliar territory.

An hour later, although the sun was shining, the temperature was still very chilly, with the hobbits continually rubbing their hands together to keep warm and shoving them deep in their pockets when they could. There was a faint dusting on snow on the ground and although it didn't impede their progress, it certainly made the air temperature much colder than when they had been on the other side of the Brandywine River.

Pippin and Merry had chatted idly through the morning about every subject they could think of to pass the time. At first, they had chosen to sing songs. And the Ranger had never before been entertained by such a repertoire of songs about hobbit folk lore.

As the hours wore on though, the two young hobbits fought hard to hide their boredom and dislike of the continual walking. Rather than sing song, they began talking about different matters of the shire and sharing idle gossip. Some of it having basis, some it maybe not, sounding less than respectful of other hobbits.

On a couple of occasions, Strider had certainly raised an eyebrow or two about the topics chosen by young hobbits. Although not participating, Frodo had certainly overheard some of the rambunctious laughter and improper words and had chastised the pair for their manners.

By midday, Sam was still worried about his master's silent mood. Frodo seemed to be walking okay, though gingerly on his injured ankle on the rougher terrain. There had been one steep section where he had gratefully accepted Sam's shoulder to help guide him, not wanting to put too much weight on the one foot all at once.

Strider selected an area that was quite open and would allow them to see anything that may threaten them. They did not have time to cook any food, but again shared some bread and fruit. Sam was allowed a small fire to boil water for tea, and Frodo appreciated this more than the food, allowing the hot liquid to warm him on the inside and help heat his cold hands.

The Ranger had checked Frodo's bandaging, glad to see that the hours of walking had not loosened the wrapping to such an extent yet that it needed to be redone. Despite the ground that they had covered so far on this journey, it soon became apparent that hobbits were not creatures that could endure long hours of walking without suffering some amount of tiredness or stiffness.

By late that afternoon, Pippin and Merry were still full of energy and excitement. They were tired, but not from walking. They thought themselves on a big adventure and chatted away to each other about the different sights and smells that they had encounter so far that day.

Frodo had immediately shaken off his silent mood when they stopped to make camp, getting his two cousins to help out with arranging the sleeping blankets and some other small tasks, to help them wind down a little and relax a little before sleep. Frodo thought it important to make them feel that they were a vital part and contributors to the group.

Sam had prepared a nice hot bowl of stew and thick gravy, which everyone accepted and ate with vigour to keep out the impending cold night. As the hour grew later, it was Frodo that found himself still awake, long after his friend and two cousins had drifted off to sleep.

Frodo sat with his back against a large tree, reasonably comfortable for the time being and smoke his pipe whilst the black sky overhead twinkled with star light. The hobbit looked over to the Ranger, trying to gauge his thoughts, but Strider's facial exterior was expressionless.

Strider was using a small sharpening stone and running it down the length of his sword, not harshly, but keeping a rhythmic action and keeping his concentration. He could feel Frodo looking at him and had briefly glanced his way on a couple of occasions, waiting to hear the questions he could see forming in the small one's mind.

"Ask, but do not expect to be told everything tonight," Strider said, smiling a little as he saw the surprised reaction from the hobbit.

"How did you know," Frodo asked, sitting up a little as he spoke. He should have known that the Ranger was more alert. "I didn't mean to offend or anything, its just………..," he continued, but left the sentence unfinished.

"You do not offend, Frodo, but I see the need for answers."

"Why do you come with us?" Frodo asked plainly. "Is it some sense of duty you feel towards our kind because of your protection over the Shire?"

Strider put the sharpening stone away and now gave his full attention to the hobbit and his questions. He gave some thought to Frodo's first question before coming up with the answer.

"I cannot deny that I do feel some sense of duty to get you and your kin safely to Rivendell. I know that what you carry with you is most important and must reach Rivendell safely. But I guide you not only out of duty, but because I you and Sam especially have become good friends. Those that I would not want to see harm befall on this journey."

It pleases me greatly that you do consider us friends and not just a weaker folk that need protecting. I know you would be forgiven for thinking so after the events that have plagued this journey so far and particularly my health and well-being," Frodo stated.

"What has happened so far on this journey has been none of your doing Frodo. Some things happen because of fate or some other forces in this world. Some things are destined to happen because they may have been recorded earlier though the passages of time as events that were foreseen and not necessarily heeded."

"I need to protect not only Sam and my cousins, but the Shire as well. It has been my home for as long as I can remember and it should break me to see anything happen to the lushness and the natural beauty that surrounds the people that dwell there."

"You feel that coming away with me has achieved that, don't you. That with the ring no longer in the Shire, that it cannot do it any harm?" Strider pre-empted. Frodo nodded his head in response, but said nothing, his eyes seeming to mist a little at the thought of his beloved Shire.

"I have to believe that I am making a difference with what I am doing Strider. That by my leaving and taking the danger with me that my homeland and those who dwell there will be kept safe. It's the Shire and my desire to leave it unspoiled that makes me do this and the task that I promised Gandalf.

"Did I tell you that I grew up in Rivendell?" Strider asked, changing the topic of conversation.

Frodo looked surprised again, but let the Ranger continue before interrupting.

"I see you look dubious. How someone like me, rough around the edges could dwell in such a place of honour and beauty. I came there when I was but a small child. To live with the elves and be part of their culture and society. I no longer had any family of my own. Lord Elrond took me in and taught me in the ways of healing."

"It must have been a wonderous place to grow up," Frodo commented.

"It was Frodo. A place that welcomed a stranger. They did not try and change my ways or what I believed it, but sought to show me that there is more than one path in this life."

"Sounds a little like Bilbo. When I came to Hobbiton, I didn't always know how he expected me to react or behave. Until one day he told me that he had no expectations save to be myself. To be Frodo Baggins and no other. Not to be whom people wanted to see, but to choose," Frodo said smiling a little as the memories of those first few years living at Bag End came flooding back.

"I left when I thought I grown enough to be called a man. I travelled with my fellow humans and joined the Rangers, learning how to track and survive in the elements. I earned renown whilst wearing many guises, but it was not that kind of honour that wanted to find."

"Did you leave your group?" Frodo asked, not knowing if it was a sensitive topic.

"Some you might say. I went out on my own, and I have stayed that way since. At times I think about the comradeship that I lost, but part of me will always be a Ranger.

After a while I went home to Rivendell, thinking that I had changed so much that I couldn't possibly find a way to fit back into their society and way of life again."

"But you did fit in right?" Frodo asked, intently listening to Strider's words and hanging on for the climax of the story.

"Yes, and no. My destiny is yet to be decided Frodo, as is yours. There are things from my past that I do not wish to dwell on tonight, not speak about until a much more appropriate time. We shall see what life holds for you and I, and your kin too."

"For now, I think you need to get some sleep," Strider said, having noticed the drowsiness on the young hobbit's face for the last quarter of a hour. Frodo was tired and hopefully for the remainder of the night his fears were quelled enough that he and his kin would be kept safe. And the Shire too.

By dawn's early light, the hobbits and the human rose to hot tea and a cold breakfast of fruit and bread. The sun shone brightly, but a chill remained in the air.

Merry and Pippin had their energies renewed overnight through sleep and were once again brimming with confidence and playfulness, ready to set out on their big adventure once again.

Frodo was surprised about how tired he didn't feel. He had gotten a few hours sleep, and much less than any of his kin, but enough to feel refreshed and clear-minded this morning. He had greeted warmly but their eyes spoke volumes to Sam who could sense that their were some things being shared between his master and the Ranger that nobody else knew about.

Sam wasn't about to say anything against Frodo or Strider though, and had no intention of voicing his thoughts out loud to his master's younger cousins. No doubt they would tell Sam that he was imagining things and that they knew their cousin well enough to know if something was not right.

"I didn't interrupt you Sam, did I?" Frodo said, bringing the stout hobbit out of his daydreams. He looked up to see his friend smiling back at him, but with a smirk that he had been caught of his guard a little this early in the day.

"Sorry, Mr Frodo. I was just thinking, that was all," he said sheepishly, and filled his master's cup with hot tea.

"Thinking is a good thing, Sam. No harm ever came of it and I suspect quite a bit of good over the years," Frodo poked in fun. Sam had not seen the slight crease in concern on Frodo's brow when he had first approached his friend.

They began walking again, the hobbits occasionally rubbing their small hands together or inside their clothing to wade off the chill that still hung in the air. By mid-morning it was clear to see why the temperature still low, as the skies began to grow bleak and grey with cloud.

As the day grew longer, the terrain underfoot became less unstable. The clouds were still above and the ground they walked on became a plain of wet, horridly sinking mud.

The hobbits found the going much tougher, often grumbling as their ankles sank deeper and deeper into the bubbling pools.

Rain had started to fall towards the afternoon and this made their only added to their misery. Strider led the way, with Frodo following closely behind. Sam was behind his master, watching for any signs that Frodo or his ankle might falter in such atrocious conditions.

Pippin walked behind Sam, and shivered on silently as he tried to huddle further into his already soaked cloak and clothes. Merry was the very last of all, just as wet as the others and just as miserable.

Suddenly, there was a cry of surprise mixed with fear as Merry stepped into one puddle and rapidly found himself sinking up to his knees.

"Pippin, help!"

Pippin turned hurriedly as did Frodo and Sam, but it was Frodo's alarmed cry that stopped an impetious hobbit sinking in the mud along with his cousin.

"No, Pip, wait. If you are not careful, you will sink too," Frodo shouted in warning.

Before Sam could offer any word, Frodo had quickly backtracked a short distance and removed his backpack and handed it to his friend.

"What will I be needing………..?" Sam began to ask. The stout hobbit had seen the Ranger rushing back to be of assistance and did not think that his master was about to step in first.

Before Sam could finish the question, Frodo had laid down on the sodden ground, velvet waistcoat and all and was inching his way carefully towards his stricken cousin.

Strider had not been too far in front of the hobbits and had turned back to offer what assistance he could, but he too needed to be mindful of his full weight being placed on the squelchy mud and sharing Merry's fate.

"Hold onto my hand Merry," Frodo instructed. "Don't try and struggle, you will only sink faster."

Merry did what he was told and outstretched his hands towards Frodo, but not able to hide the uneasiness he was experiencing as the mud swallowed his legs. He had tried freeing himself, but as his cousin had warned, any movement only seemed to aid in him becoming more submerged.

"Pippin and Sam, grab onto my legs and pull us both out," Frodo shouted back, not turning to see if they had heard his instructions, but feeling a tug on both of his feet.

Sam was beside himself, seeing his master laying down in the mud and telling them to drag him as if he was some calf that had gotten itself stuck. This wasn't proper for someone like Frodo, ruining his clothes and all, but his master had acted before anyone else had a chance to offer in rescuing Merry.

Sam dumped everything he had in his hands and grabbed on to the fine cloth of his master's breeches leg, wanting to help in anyway he could. He wished the situations were reversed and that it was he that was sprawled in the mud, not Frodo.

Strider told Pippin and Sam to be careful or four hobbits could find themselves in difficulty in the mud. The nature of the marshes was such that the ground was already full of puddles and pools of water, each varying in size to the next.

In some places, such as the hole that Merry had fallen into, the mud was quite deep. Only a few feet away to the left and right, there was a thin smear across the terrain where vegetation had begun to take up root and had prevented the soil being excessively saturated by the marshes.

Frodo was using all the strength in his arms to try and pull his cousin free of the vacuum power of the mud. All the time, Merry growing more and more anxious and uneasyand finding it difficult to remaining calm.

"Get me out of here, Frodo. Please!" Merry said, tears welling in his eyes, but pride holding them back as long as possible.

Pippin could hear the distress in Merry's voice, and he was just as worried for his cousin. Sam did his best to encourage the younger hobbit that the best thing to do was help.

Strider had been about to take Pippin's place at helping pull Frodo, when the combined efforts of the hobbits resulted in Merry being released from the mud. He and Frodo both lay on the ground for a few moments, getting their breath back and exchanging relieved looks.

Frodo slowly got to his feet, with the help of Sam. Pippin had helped Merry too, but felt a slight trembling in his cousins limbs after such an ordeal.

"Let us make our way to dryer ground quickly and then you can both rest more comfortably," Strider said, still ever alert in such surroundings for unfriendly eyes that might be watching their movements.

The hobbits nodded together with a grim expression on their faces, knowing that Strider spoke the truth. Continuing through the muddy marshes they appeared bedraggled and fatigued.

Frodo's usually immaculate brown velvet jacket where smeared with the dark oozing mud. His breeches had a small tear near the right knee and his wet curls were plastered to his face with no sense of order at all.

Sam was not concerned with his wet and muddy feet, but knew he do nothing about his master's clothes or appearance until they reached drier ground and he could start a fire.

Pippin's clothes remained fairly clean, though he kept an eye on his cousin the entire time they walked, watching his feet in fear that it would give way beneath Merry again. Merry was too busy chasing away the dratted insects that buzzed about his legs. The mud had covered him from foot to knee and the smell of the mud attracted the insects more. He tried to slap a few away, but unfortunately he would miss and only end up with the palm of his hand with a circle of mud on it where it had made contact with his leg.

"_What do they eat when they cannot get hobbit," _he called out in frustration. He was wet, muddy, tired and being eaten alive. No quite the adventure that he and Pippin had carved out in their minds a day or two ago in Bree.

Much to the relief of the hobbits, Strider has been able to navigate his way through the odourous and wet marshes to a more drier area that was sheltered with by a grouping of large rocks. A small stream of clear water was within a few metres, with fresh cool water to drink and help make a meal.

Sam had placed his pack at the base of a large rock and saw his master sink wearily against another nearby, closing his eyes and grimacing, not wanting to think about his ankle that had begun protesting by aching as soon as Frodo has stopped walking.

Frodo assured Sam that he was perfectly fine and he would look forward to a hot drink for supper. Not wanting to deny his master, Sam set off to the stream the short distance away, one of his sturdy black pots in hand, ready to fill with water for tea.

Strider was standing nearby the hobbits, looking around at the surroundings, making sure that their small fire was not being noticed. He had unbuckled his larger sword and his quiver of arrows and bow and placed them within reaching distance.

His main concern now was to find fresh food for the hobbits, preferably meat. He took a small length of rope from his pack and began fashioning a snare that would entrap a small rabbit or other quarry, suitable for cooking.

Merry hadn't moved or said anything since arriving at their campsite for the night. Pippin was a little concerned by the lack of interaction his cousin was displaying, even amongst his kin and friends. Merry was never one to remain quiet for long.

Pippin glanced over at Frodo, wondering if he should get some ask for help from his eldest cousin, but he saw Frodo in the middle of unwrapping the sodden, muddy bandage from his ankle and decided against it. There were not many times that Pippin had seen his cousin Frodo covered in mud and tired from long hours of walking.

"You alright there Merry?" Pippin finally plucked up the courage to ask.

"Yeah," came the uninterested response, Merry's face downcast. He was idly picking at the mud that had dried in clumps on his legs. Most of it was still wet and sticky, it still smelt awful. "Dreadful stuff," he commented, wanting to show his displeasure.

Pippin nodded in sympathy, only too glad to not have as much on him as Frodo and Merry. Without warning, Merry suddenly sat up straight and cried out in horror whilst pointing to his left leg. His finger poised close, but not wanting to get any closer.

Strider had spun around immediately upon hearing the distressed hobbit and Frodo had forgotten all about his bandage and scrambled to where Merry and Pippin were seated.

"GET IT OFF!" Merry shouted.

"OH YUCKY!" Pippin said, wanting to help his cousin, but not wanting to touch the slimy creature they both saw.

Sam had dropped the pot of water he had been carrying back to the fire, spilling the contents, and the rim being covered in soil. He too hurried over to the other hobbits, wondering what had caused Merry to shriek like that.

Merry looked up, trying to back away but knowing that the creature was attached to his leg. He recognized the darl curls of Frodo coming to his aid and reached out for his help.

"GET IT OFF, FRODO! GET IT OFF, PLEASE!"

"Alright Merry, calm down so I can take a look at what is bothering you," Frodo said, trying to reassure his cousin. In his fear, Merry had grabbed out at his hands and Frodo found himself having to wrench them free so that he could get a closer look at his cousin's leg.

Strider now appeared over the top of the hobbits, and could see what was causing the problems. A leech, long and thin, and black in colour was adorning Merry's leg.

Frodo stood up and stepped back from Merry, allowing Strider easier access to the problem. He didn't go far though, standing to one side of Merry and speaking softly to him.

"Its alright, Merry. Strider will look after you," Frodo said. Merry nodded slightly, thinking that the Ranger would be able to get rid of the beast easily enough. He didn't know what sort of damage leeches could do to one's leg. He did not want to find out either.

Strider had accessed the situation swiftly and knew of the remedy that would be most effective and quick. Though he did not think it wise enough to alarm all of the hobbits at once by speaking it out loud.

Very cautiously, he promised he would be back in a moment, and walked to his pack. He found the implement he sought and concealed it as best he could until he speak to Merry and the others and assure them that he meant no harm to any of them. He had seen this done many times before as a Ranger, and it was the fastest method with their remote location.

"Frodo, you are going to have to hold him one side. Sam, you the other," Strider instructed, thinking that Pippin would not have the physical strength required and knowing that the younger hobbit was very attached to his cousin Merry. "Hold him firm and I will remove it quickly and without pain."

Sam and Frodo nodded in agreement, following the Ranger's words. "Strider will have it gone in a moment, Merry," Frodo said in a comforting tone of voice.

"What are you going to do?" Merry said, his voice betraying his uneasiness. He wanted the creature had to be removed and quickly.

"I am just going to remove it "gently" and then make sure that there is no open wound remaining that may be prone to infection," Strider said, trying to ease the hobbit's fear, and give a valid reason for his need to use a knife.

"Just get it over with," Merry said in a nervous voice, turning his head and forcing himself not to look. He buried his head into the sleeve of Frodo's jacket, whilst Strider set about removing the leech from his leg.

With one clean and swift movement of his hand, the Ranger removed the animal, leaving behind a small trail of blood where a small sliver of skin had come away with the leech.

"It is all over my friend," Strider said in a quiet voice. Merry lifted his head and looked at his leg. He visibly swallowed at the sight of the blood, and his face lost its natural colour very rapidly.

"Are you alright, Merry?" Strider asked, a little concerned at such a drastic reaction to the small trickle of blood that was to be seen.

Pippin appeared at the Ranger's side with a small damped cloth to wipe away the excess blood. "Merry has always been a little squeamish about blood. Not his fault you must understand. He is just a little more delicate than most hobbits when it comes such things. Normally he is much braver than this." Strider smiled at Pippin's defence of his cousin's weakness, as he looked down to inspect Merry's leg. He was able to see that although the leech had been securely attached, that it had not inflicted any permanent injury, and thus by morning it was doubtful that there would even be a mark to be seen.

"You are most fortunate on this occasion, Master Meriadoc, there is a small red mark that will be faded by morning," the Ranger informed him. Merry had jerked up his head, surprised by the casualness of the diagnosis. The thing had been feeding off his leg. But as he and the other hobbits now looked intently at his own shin, there was only the small mark that Strider had spoken of.

"You can barely see it," Pippin blurted out before he caught himself.

Merry gave a steely gaze back at his young cousin's frank assessment, "Well it hurt a lot I will have you know."

Frodo and Sam stood up and tried to hide their smirks at Merry's statement. It looked as though an the eminent disaster had been avoided for now and that the attacking leech had been successfully dealt with.

"Sorry, Merry, I know it does," Pip said in mock remorse. "I better go help with supper."

"But what about my leg?" Merry asked indignantly, now that all had left his side, assured that he would make it through the night unscathed. He got no reply but heard a giggle of laughter coming from the direction of the camp fire.

Strider wandered back to the grumpy hobbit and handed him a hot drink. Merry took it and utter thanks. By now he felt a little childish at his behaviour at such a minor ailment.

Frodo had been walking around on that ankle of his and he had not uttered more than a whimper unless absolutely necessary and even that was dragged from him under protest.

"Leeches can be useful creatures in healing," Strider said, striking up a conversation and taking a seat beside the hobbit.

"I don't even want to think about what they use those for," Merry commented. The Ranger was glad to see a small amount of colour returning to the hobbit's face. He really had been much too pale when he saw the blood.

As though reading the Ranger's thoughts, Merry looked into the cup he was drinking from before offering a fuller explanation to his fear. "I know I don't handle blood well."

"Not many people do," Strider said, reassuring the hobbit that he was not the only one that paled at such sites. He had known many brave soldiers and humans who had taken sick upon seeing a member of their party slain.

"Its always been that way with me. Can't explain it really. Even when Frodo was living at Brandy Hall I was always the one hated the site of blood. Pip got a bloody nose one day by accident when he was about 10 years old. I just couldn't cope. Luckily Frodo had been with us that day and he knew what to do to help staunch the flow."

"Next time, try not to look at it," the Ranger offered as a perfectly reasonable solution.

"But I will still know its there," Merry said, biting his lip a little, showing his unease at talking about such topics.

"Yes, but you won't be able to see it, and that's a start," Strider remarked, encouraging Merry to take small steps himself towards conquering his fear rather than trying to cope with it all at once.

"Thanks, Strider. I appreciate your advice," Merry said, sipping at his drink once more, whilst thinking about what he had been told. Hopefully he wouldn't have need to put such a suggestion into practice any time soon.

The remainder of the night progressed with out incident. Though all kept a discreet eye on Merry on occasion, relieved to see him showing some signs of his more outward personality as the night wore on. Once they had partaken in a meal and spoke idly around the fire, the colour in Merry's cheek was more natural.

The sleeping arrangements had to be altered a little this night and thought out a little more carefully due to the terrain. Though the ground was flat and devoid of vegetation, there were a number of small rock mounds dotting the landscape as well as the area they had chosen for a camp site.

Merry and Pippin found that they could put their blankets side by side each other, squeezed between two rock mounds. Frodo was positive that one of them would roll on the other before morning, due to the cramped area. Pippin did not want to be separated from Merry to night at all after the scare his cousin had received.

"There is just no way these are going to fit side by side each other Mr Frodo," Sam declared in an exasperated voice as he went about laying out the blankets for his master's bed and his own.

Frodo had just come from Merry and Pippin and how straight or close together the blankets were laid next to each other was the last thing on this mind. But he did not want to hurt Sam's feelings, and so tried to offer helpful suggestions rather than agree to the gardener's frank assessment.

Frodo took one of the blankets from Sam's hand and walked a foot or so from where he had been standing, laying the fabric down on the ground, adjacent to where Sam intended to sleep himself.

"You see, Sam, its only a little distance between us. It just looks a little awkward because we are not laying side by side as any other time," Frodo said, hoping his friend would be convinced.

"I still don't like it, Mr Frodo. Like you say, it looks odd like when you lay the blanket like that. Are you sure it will suit? I can look around for another spot if you like, further over there a little, on the other side of Mr Merry and Mr Pippin," Sam replied.

"I would rather just leave it for now, Sam. I am tired from the long day and would like to go to sleep ready for an equally long day tomorrow. Hopefully the camp site we find for tomorrow evening will allow us to arrange the bedding to your satisfaction," Frodo commented, his tone of voice not harsh, but sounding disinterested and the weariness that he was feeling.

Sam looked more than dubious, but decided to let the matter rest. He could hear the tiredness in his master's voice and did not want to delay any attempt at a peaceful night's rest.

Frodo gave a last minute glance towards his two younger cousins, relieved to see them curled into their blankets and looking towards sleep as well. With a audible sigh he lay down on the hard ground himself, using his cloak as a pillow and turning on his side.

He thought he would have trouble falling asleep tonight, but soon found his thoughts drifting away in his mind.

Sam continued to watch his master for a few moments, equally surprised at how quickly Frodo had gone to sleep this night. His hand reached forward to fuss over the blankets and draw them over his friend more, but he berated himself softly and told himself to do the same.

Strider stoked the embers of the camp fire a little, to keep the hobbits as warm as possible and took up his position of watch on a large boulder. Close enough to protect the hobbits if the need became necessary, but far enough to watch their slumber with amusement and ponder the colourful lives that these little folk lived.

It was an hour or two before dawn when Frodo startled awake and sat up abruptly on his blankets. What had awoken him, he couldn't be sure. His heart was racing and his chest felt incredibly tight, short of breath even.

Thankfully, Merry and Pippin were still asleep, as was Sam. They had not heard his barely contained scream or his movements. Frodo looked over at Strider's bedroll, seeing that the Ranger was gaining a few well needed hours of sleep before the sun rose.

Frodo was most surprised that Strider had not heard him, but all other thoughts were replaced by the fear that something was watching them. He gazed out into the darkness, squinting against the blackness, but not rewarded with anything more than insecurity about the unknown.

What lay out there? He could sense it, but could it sense him? Or his friends?

Cautiously as possible and silently, Frodo got up and went towards the fire, knowing that any further attempt at sleep was gone. The sun would rise and they would need to begin the day again.

Frodo moved himself to the rock that Strider had used for his watch the night before. Hobbit feet allowing soft enough padding not to awaken the human sleeping a few metres away.

Frodo perched his smaller frame up on the rock and drew his knees to his chest and looking off into the distance. He tried in vain to seek out what had awoken him, but the night remained still and unrevealing. The darkness continuing to conceal any enemy that might using it as a cloak to shield its presence.

It didn't take Strider long to sense that something about the camp had changed, and his heightened senses immediately became alert. His eyes falling on the sight of Frodo sitting on the rock and looking out into the trees, as though expecting to find something. The dawn was almost upon them, the sun providing small bands of light across the ground, shadowed by the larger rock formations.

Strider arose quickly, going to the hobbit, looking for any exterior sign of a problem and why the hobbit was awake so early. Frodo's expression was like a mask and made it difficult to assess his thoughts, but the hobbit's body language spoke volumes to the Ranger.

The protectiveness of how his knees where drawn against his chest suggested fear or nervousness about something. There was no slump in the shoulders, indicating that the hobbit had been sitting here only a short time.

Strider stood beside Frodo, not saying anything at first, but looking in the same direction and trying to see what the hobbit was looking or waiting for.

"What do you wait for?" he finally asked, knowing that the direct approach would probably provide more answers.

Frodo didn't take his eyes of the rocks in the distance, but had heard the question. "I don't know. Just a feeling. I awoke, but I do not know why."

Strider nodded his head in acknowledgement. "A feeling you say?"

This time Frodo turned to face the Ranger, and his blue eyes giving everything away, "I can't explain it. Perhaps it is nothing."

Rather than be drawn more into the conversation, Frodo got down from the rock and went to tend the fire, ready to begin cooking breakfast. As he reached for the bucket to get water from the stream, he paused and look back in Strider's direction.

Again, Frodo held the Ranger's gaze with the intensity of his blue eyes, "Just a feeling."

He walked the short distance to the edge of the stream, still close enough for Strider to see him, and be curious about the hobbit's unusual behaviour this morning.

Frodo had brought the bucket of water back to the fire and had just put it near the flames to boil for tea, when Sam came awake. "Oi, Mr Frodo, you need not being doing that when I am here to do it."

"If you say so, Sam," Frodo remarked. He walked away and began to fold his blankets and then sat with his back against the rock as he had done the day before, until breakfast was ready. His demeanour drew concern and more than a raised eyebrow from both Strider and Sam.

Frodo's lack of retort to Sam's comments about him doing the work, was the first thing to be noticed. Merry and Pippin had awoken at Strider's encouragement a short time later, but even their jovial morning mood and attempts at idle chatter about the day ahead could not bring their older cousin out of his melancholy.

During breakfast, Frodo ate slowly, but without saying anything. As though he was deep in thought about something. By the time they were ready to begin walking again, Frodo had said barely two words except "Good Morning" and "Thanks" when Sam had given him a cup of tea.

They had only been walking a short time when Merry and Pippin decided to approach Sam about Frodo's mood. "What is wrong with him Sam?" Merry asked, Pippin nodding at the question, whilst they watched their cousin walking a few metres ahead of them.

"Don't rightly know, Sirs. Maybe Strider knows what is bothering him," Sam suggested, hoping that somebody would tell him what was wrong with his master.

The trio had chosen an opportune moment some miles further when Frodo had turned his back to look at some of the local scenery, to approach Strider.

"Do you know what is wrong with Mr Frodo, this morning?" Sam asked, not comfortable that he couldn't just come out and ask his master.

"I am sorry that I do not," Strider replied. "He was awake earlier than me this morning. Perhaps he woke too early and could not go back to sleep and is still a little tired."

The three hobbits seemed satisfied enough with that explanation. At this point in time, they did not have any other answers and Frodo was not likely to tell them if anything in particular was on his mind.

Towards the early afternoon as they began walking again, Frodo attempted to join in the group more as they approached some spectacular scenery. They listened intently and in awe as Strider told them what he knew about the history of various landmarks and the area in general.

"It was once the great watch tower _Amon Sûl_," Strider informed them, pointing at a large hill that stood before them. The rock formation was much higher than any other landmark they had encountered today and looked very formidable indeed.

"Is it very old?" Pippin asked with the innocence of one so young.

Strider smiled at the question, "Yes, Pippin, very old. Much older than any of you or I. It was built here in the days of Elendil, and was once a place used by the Númenóreans. A time of great warriors and even greater deeds."

Frodo and the other hobbits couldn't help but feel that such a place had special meaning to the Ranger, but they did not want to pry too much as to how he came to have such knowledge of places.

The outside appeared to be constructed out of black rock that went up many metres. On top they could see remnants of stone structures such as columns. On one side of the hill, there was a large gash that created a great cavern.

"That is where we will make camp for tonight," Strider informed the hobbits.

Pippin swallowed a little, looking up at the height of the rock face. Merry was the one that voiced their thoughts to the Ranger. "It looks a long way up."

"It is a little steep near the mouth of the cavern you can see, but the rock face itself it relatively easy to climb. Remember, small steps and you will all do just fine," Strider reassured them.

"I'll be none to happy to stop for the evening to be sure," Sam commented, looking over at his master. Once again Frodo's attention was drawn elsewhere than where they were headed.

Sam caught a glimpse of Frodo looking in the direction they had just come. Scanning the thinning trees and expecting to find an explanation to the warning that was beginning to grow in his heart.

Frodo placed his hand on Sam's shoulder as he walked past, and though said no words, gave a gentle squeeze. Encouragement as only a friend could.

The Ranger and the hobbits reached the base of what was once the great watchtower, looking up in awe at the natural barrier that the rock provided. The paused only long enough for Strider to show them an old disused path. Part of it was covered in rocks and large divots caused by the impact of debris from higher above.

The boulders were something to grab onto and provided to the travellers with assistance against the gradient they had to walk, but it made the hobbits a little nervous to think that their fate was in the hands of ancient forces that had dwelled here a long time ago. One slip could be disastrous and any rock falling from above could spell injury or worse in their attempt to reach a small piece of sanctuary for the night.

For now, _Amon Sûl _did not reveal any secrets of the past, nor give any information about the future. Allowing the human and the four hobbits to choose their own path to the above cavern and perhaps beyond.

"The rock is so smooth," Merry commented as he ran his hand over the top of one boulder as they climbed. "No ripples or cracks in the surface of the rock at all."

"I suspect the rain and weather has had a lot to do with such effects, Master Meriadoc," Strider remarked, smiling at little at the hobbit's continual inquisitiveness of almost all they came across on their journey. Such curiosity should not be quelled, and be seen as an asset.

Frodo rubbed this fingertips over the smooth black rock as Merry made his comments, but his thoughts were concentrated elsewhere. Almost as if he could feel a warm breath blowing against the nape of his neck from a stranger, but then turning and finding nothing there.

By the time the hobbits reached the small alcove, they were ready for a rest and breathing heavily. The walk up the steep slope had taxed what strength remained from half a day of walking. All took drinks from their water skins and were grateful for the cool liquid running down their throats.

It had not been possible to gain a perspective on how big the cavern was until now. And even Strider was pleased with the large area. Plenty of room for a cooking fire and then sleeping blankets could be spread around.

From this vantage point, it should be relatively easy to spot anything out of the ordinary that might become threatening. Strider would also be able to keep watch of the changing weather patterns as evening approached and in the morning again before they departed on their next leg of the journey. The direction of their travel had yet to be discussed.

This evening, although the sky grew dark, but there were no clouds and the stars shone brightly overhead. The cavern offered perfect protection from the wind and any chill in the air that may come in the early morning hours.

Merry and Pippin had taken on the task of rolling out the bedding and arranging the sleeping quarters. Sam, of course was preparing to cook the evening meal. When the Ranger looked about for Frodo, he was surprised to see himself a little distance from the others.

Standing just under the cavern roof, seemingly gazing out at the stars as the first ones made their appearance. From the expression on his face though, Strider could see doubt and uncertainty written on Frodo's features.

Strider had a brief whisper in Sam's ear before approaching the subdued hobbit.

"Frodo," the Ranger said gently, placing a strong hand on the young hobbit's shoulder, urging him to turn around and share whatever problem was eating away at him. He was about to ask if Frodo wanted to talk, but somehow that seemed to be the wrong thing to ask at the moment. Instead he compromised. "Would you like some tea?"

Frodo did turn around and smile, completing aware of the cat and mouse game that Strider was playing. He wasn't upset or angry at this. He just wanted the world to close in around him and let him forget everything, even for a few hours. "Tea sounds real good," was the response he offered.

Frodo gave a 'thank you' to Sam as he sat near the fire, joining Merry and Pippin, who were eagerly awaiting Sam's pot to reveal what was creating such a delicious aroma.

Merry could see the down cast mood his cousin was displaying and wanted to help out where they could to help him. "So tell me more about this place, Strider," Merry said.

Half of him really intrigued as to why the place had been built and the history surrounding it. The other half kept looking at Frodo to see if he was gaining any interest in the conversation.

Strider didn't disappoint the hobbits, and shared what else he knew. "Well, we are currently west of your Shire. This place has also been called _Hill of the Wind _, and as I mentioned before he climbed up here, it was once a great watch tower in the days of Elendil."

"What was it used for?" Pippin asked innocently.

Strider paused for a moment, looking at all of the hobbits before continuing. He was not certain that any of them were ready to hear such an answer. Then he gave the correct information, not wanting to hide anything from them.

"This region is known as _Eriador_. This watch tower was once the home to one of the seven _palantiri _of Middle Earth," the Ranger explained.

Out of the corner of his eye, the Ranger could see that Frodo was listening, but the way he diverted his gaze from the speaker and fidgeted with his hands and his jacket, spoke volumes.

Later that same evening, Frodo was sitting with his cousins around the campfire. Supper had been eaten and now they were talking idly about the happenings of the day and generally catching up with one another to pass the time away.

No matter how hard Frodo tried, he just couldn't get himself interested in the conversation. Something else was attracting his attention and he couldn't help but feel an overwhelming sense that something was watching them. He knew how silly it sounded, being up here in the middle of a vast open cavern above the ground. But he still couldn't shake the feeling.

Sam had gotten up and went to his master, trying to and see what the trouble was. He was alarmed at the a slight amount of trembling he could feel running through the Frodo's body.

The temperature of the night was mild and so it was less likely that his master shivered from the cold. "What is wrong, Mr Frodo?" Sam asked in a gentle voice, seeing the obvious distress that was being displayed. By now, Merry and Pippin had become aware that their earlier efforts had been in vain and a serious problem was beginning to presenting itself.

Frodo forced himself to open his eyes and look at his friend. When he did so, Sam saw something reflecting in those deep blue eyes: fear.

Frodo himself could feel the muscles in his chest tightening from the sense of fear that wanted to consume him. He couldn't put what he was feeling into words. Getting to his feet, Frodo now took two steps backwards away from the campfire.

"Frodo, what is wrong?" Strider asked, trying not to agitate the situation more. The hobbit was confused and scared all at the same time. As though he knew he had to do something, but couldn't quite work out what. His reflexes were on high alert and it would only take a brief second of distraction to make him try and flee the safety of the cavern.

"Don't you feel it, Strider?" Frodo asked incredulously, not comprehending that he was the only one to feel this way. 'Sam, there is something out there,' he wanted to say, but the words never left his lips.

The Ranger paused a second and tried his best to try and work out what had the hobbit so tense and afraid, but he couldn't see or hear anything that would immediately draw his attention that there may be a threat nearby.

Merry and Pippin listened intently and gazed out into the pitch blackness, noting the almost urgent tone of their cousin's voice.

"There is something that needs to be done now that might quell your uneasiness a little," Strider said to Frodo as he walked towards his pack and extracted a item from within. The hobbits looked on with intrigue but were unable to see the contents due to it being encased in a piece of black fabric.

Frodo, although reluctant, grew curious about what the Ranger had stored in his pack. He had glanced back over his shoulder before coming back to the group and seating amongst them once more. His intense blue gaze swept the cavern as they all waited.

"These are for you," Strider announced, unwrapping the fabric and revealing four small sized swords, complete with leather sheath. The Ranger could see the startled expressions on the faces of the small folk, but look at the weapons individually, determining which would suit each of them and protect them best in a great time of need.

All were handed a sword, and each of them giving a puzzled and confused look. They were weapons yes. And swords, meant to fight, but none of them had used one. Frodo certainly had seen a sword before, even a man's sword. And the other hobbits had heard great tales from Bilbo, all containing the heroic use of such blades in war and battle.

Merry and Pippin's expression changed from one of confusion, to utter awe and wonderment. Neither of them had been allowed to even hold such dangerous implements before. Now they were given swords of their very own. The heavy metal of the blades and the smell of the leather sheath making it ever more real for them.

"Now you two young hobbits be very careful," Frodo warned, instantly falling into the role of guardian over his two cousins. He didn't like the idea of Sam or himself having to resort to physical violence on this journey. The thought of Merry or Pippin being forced or needing to use swords against another living creature make him very apprehensive indeed.

"You heard what Mr Frodo said," Sam repeated to the cousins. "Be careful not to cut yourself. Those blades look mighty sharp and could cut you before you knew it." Sam looked over towards his master, with the same words on his tongue, but he dare not tell them Mr Frodo.

Out of the four hobbits, Sam felt the most confident with the sword handle in his hand, and that was not any great achievement. His limit of using a blade was to skin Coney's and other wild game with his Gaffer ready for cooking at Yule and such. Those knives had been much smaller too, and didn't demand the same required weight from his wrist.

Frodo had examined his blade, but did not want to examine it any longer than necessary. He looked back at the Ranger as he secured the sword back in his sheath, trying to think of what to say.

"Thank you, but I would be lying if I was to say that I was comfortable with the site of my tweenaged cousins needing to use swords," Frodo remarked. He knew that the Ranger was doing his best to lead them safely on their journey and protect them all, but were they putting themselves in more danger by displaying weapons?

"Keep them close at all time," Strider warned sternly. He did not want to intentionally frighten the hobbits, but he was under no illusions about the lands ahead were unsafe and unfriendly at times.

Frodo and Sam had hidden their swords under the corner of their bedrolls. Within easy access if they were required, but out of site enough not to remind the hobbits of their purpose. Merry and Pippin followed suit after they got a sharp nudge from Sam and a frown from Frodo.

"When time allows, I will give you all instruction of how to wield them with effect and how to defend yourself," Strider told them. Merry and Pippin looked at the Ranger with delight and excitement, wanting to start as soon as Strider was willing.

Frodo apprehension eased about the swords a little, but it only added to the whole burden he placed on himself about keeping them safe until they arrived back home in the Shire.

"I wonder what Uncle Bilbo would say if he could see us now. Especially out here in the wild with swords in our hand," Frodo commented.

"What do you think he would say, Frodo? Would he be angry?" Strider asked, seeing the conflict within the hobbit about his Uncle's view.

Frodo thought a moment before answering, drawing upon the values and traditions that he had learned under Bilbo's tutelage during his years at Bag End. "He would not be angry," he answered at first, positive about that. "He would be disappointed that it became necessary for hobbits of the Shire to have to use such dire methods."

"Aye, that he would certainly, Mr Frodo," Sam agreed.

Merry and Pippin's excited expressions dipped a little at the mention of Bilbo's suspected disappointment. Being one of the more elderly hobbits they had known throughout their young lives, his opinions were respected by a great many, including those that sat around the campfire now.

"If I could be assured of your safe passage, then there would be no need for such drastic methods," Strider said, hoping to quell Frodo's fears for his younger cousins.

"But you carry an item of great importance, my dear hobbit. One as you have seen that draws the attention of others that would use it to do great harm."

"Let us hope that you will be there to protect us all when the need becomes dire," Frodo said, accepting that for now, all of them needed to be aware of any danger that might prevent itself until they reached the sanctuary of Rivendell.

Frodo got up to refill his tea mug from the pot resting near the fire. He was about to pour the hot liquid into the ceramic cup when his hands began to tremble so badly, it dropped from his hand.

He could feel the beads of sweat running down the back of his shirt at the apprehensiveness that continued to grow within him. He didn't have a rational explanation for it, but it was there all the same.

Strider had resumed talking with Samwise about what tasks needed to be carried out the next day. He had yet to see the fearful expression written on the young hobbit's face.

It was the sound of the ceramic mug falling on the ground that caught the Ranger's attention. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Frodo standing near the fire. As he turned his head to get a better view, he could see Frodo had his eyes squeezed shut tight as though he were in pain.

Frodo look up in apology at the surprised and concerned expressions of his cousins and friends, giving a false smile to hide his fear. "Just clumsy," he mumbled, picking up the undamaged mug, but not filling it as he had intended.

The hobbit walked a few short steps towards the sleeping blankets, giving and indication of tiredness and wanting rest. Sam had started to get up as if to help with the blankets and such, but a shake of Merry's head warned the stout hobbit that he could sense his cousin's need to be left alone. Sam still felt compelled to tend to his master, but heeded Merry's assessment of Frodo's mood.

Frodo looked away from his companions towards the trees in the distance. Something was out there, he could feel it. Almost taste it. It was too dark to make anything out but the outline of the trees but somewhere in there he felt as though he was being watched. No watched wasn't the right word he told himself: _stalked_ he corrected.

At the base of _Amon Sûl _five shadowy figures fanned out at even distances apart. The air grew still and the mood of the night changed noticeably in an instant. Mist curled around the steel shod feet and the tendrils of their dark cloaks could be seen to follow behind.

Their movement was silent and with only one purpose in mind. To draw out the halfling that carried the one ring and take it from him. The hobbit would know perpetual darkness and his soul endless torment. Enslavement to the Dark Lord as they had endured for centuries, that was to be his fate.

The Ringwraith's wanted to make their attack as stealthily and swift as possible. They were aware of the man's presence, and he was certainly deemed an obstacle in preventing them from achieving their ultimate goal and capturing the hobbit and the 'one ring'.

Although no words were spoken between them, two of them separated from the others. They would draw out the Ranger, leaving the halflings unprotected and easier targets.

The other three figures moved higher up on the hill, amongst the ruins of the watchtower, where they would remain unseen until they revealed themselves. The leader of the group began to seek out the hobbit and ensnare his will, forcing him to come. Away from the Ranger and the safety of the other halflings, he would soon succumb to the darkness.

_back under the culvert_

The first thing that Frodo noticed was the drop in temperature. When the sleeping arrangements had been made the night before, he had found himself sandwiched between Sam and Merry.

Sometime during the night, Merry and Pippin had become restless in their slumber, and Frodo found himself on the end of the group. Sam was closest to the fire, and Merry and Pippin were snuggled up to each other in Pippin's blanket.

Frodo opened his eyes, unaware of what had awoken him, but the realisation of something being wrong, was like a slow burning inside him. He opened his eyes and lay quietly for a moment, trying to take in any sounds that he could hear.

Turning his head, apart from the sleeping arrangements of Sam and his kin, he was able to see that Strider was asleep on the opposite side of the cavern. The Ranger lay quiet and still, indicating that he had yet to be disturbed by any noise or feeling of something wrong.

Like the night before, the strange feeling within him was difficult to ignore, but there was a difference. Last night he startled awake and convinced himself that something was close by. Tonight the awareness of something be wrong was still very real, but the feeling was different. Not fear exactly, but uncertainty.

It was almost like he could hear a voice talking to him. He concentrated harder and tried to work out where it was coming from. He peered out into the darkness, but could not see anything. The voice remained barely above a whisper, but it was compelling and constant.

The voice was commanding him to do something…. go somewhere. He put a hand over his breast pocket where the ring was hidden. Frodo could feel a small amount of warmth coming from it, a hum or vibration.

Frodo sat up silently, and without a sound, threw back the corner of the blanket and got to his feet. The voice was commanding him to walk, and although a small part of him wanted to resist, the hum of the ring against his chest was growing louder, more insistent and urgent. He retrieved the sword that Strider had given him and carried this with him as he began to follow the voice.

Frodo did not look down at his feet, though they followed a small broken path out of the cavern, up high on the hill towards some ancient ruins. Ivy and other vigorous climbing plants obstructed his view in some places, the surface of the stone feeling cold and alien.

The voice was threatening, the speech confusing, but at the same time compelling and intoxicating. Frodo's heart sensed the danger, urging him to turn back, but his mind was being coerced by the power of the 'one ring' and did not heed such a warning.

Frodo climbed the winding path, in a trance like state and mostly unaware of his surroundings or of his need to walk in this direction. At last he could see the remnants of the great watch tower.

The stone columns collapsed in most places, but two solitary ones standing a short distance away. A partial section of the wall stood to his left, the bricks now covered in moss and fungi. A water fountain adorned the wall, with intricate carving from long ago.

On the other side of the column, lay a large paved area, with no visible statues or structures. A fallen column lay on one side to the right, the top of it once being a carved stone animal head. Part of it lay crumbling in the elements, telling a silent tale of the history and significance that the tower had once had for Middle Earth and the race of men.

With sword grasped in one hand, though still in his leather sheath, Frodo made his way out onto this paved area, the hum of the ring in his breast pocket growing louder and more insistent still.

There was no breeze blowing, though the ruins stood on top of a crest. The air was growing cold and a stillness began to creep around the hobbit's ankle, unlike any that he had known before.

_Give up the ring halfling_

Back in the cavern, Strider and the other hobbits were still slumbering, until just then when an ear-piercing scream shattered the silence. They jumped to their feet, the hobbits huddling together instinctively, the Ranger, reaching for his sword and holding it defensively in front of him.

There was no mistaking that kind of scream. They had all heard it back in Bree, and the hobbits had heard it as the Black Rider had pursued them after farmer Maggot's farm.

Then a sickening feeling dawned on Merry amongst the group of hobbits, a second before the same expression could be seen mirrored on Sam's face when they both realised that one of them was missing.

"Where is Mr Frodo?" Sam asked panicking.

Strider could not hide his fear for the hobbit when he saw the empty blanket and only three hobbits standing behind him. "Did any of you see or hear him leave?" he asked, not wanting to waste time on irrelevant details. They needed to find him and quickly.

"No, I never heard him at all," Merry replied, Pippin nodding his agreement to his cousin's statement. The two of them had been wrapped up in their blankets and blissfully unaware that anything had happened to Frodo.

Sam had walked over to the blanket and checked for something, a deep knot beginning to form in the pit of his stomach about what might have happened to his master. "His sword is missing too!"

"What would be so urgent as to make him want to leave without telling anybody, and for him to take his sword? Pippin asked, remembering Frodo's reluctance around the campfire only the night before about any of them possessing the weapons Strider had presented them with.

"I must ask that you all stay here together," Strider commanded with urgency in his voice. "I will find Frodo, but for safety you all need to stick together. Get your swords out ready."

Without any more explanation, and fear for Frodo's safety paramount, Strider went into the darkness in the direction that the scream had come from.

The three hobbits pressed their backs against each other, forming a crude circle, with their swords in hand, should any an enemy show itself. Each of them afraid of what may transpire until the Ranger returned, but most of all, fear for their missing Frodo.

By this time, Frodo was becoming more aware of his surroundings, finding himself amongst the ruins of the watch tower. He was able to separate his own thoughts from the insistent voices, but once he did so, true fear began to grow within his heart and soul.

The ground beneath his feet began to shudder, as the sound of heavy footprints resounded off the stone walls. Frodo remained completely still, facing the direction from where the noise was coming from. Fear had locked his limbs and prevented any movement.

The hair on the back of his neck prickled as his terror grew. His mouth became dry, and his breathing became noticeably louder. The air in his lungs was restricted as the muscles in his chest contracted from his fear.

Frodo drew forth the sword from his leather sheath and held it unsteadily in front of him. His hands trembling, making it difficult to grasp the hilt for the purpose of defending himself from the approaching foe.

Whilst Frodo was setting himself within the ruins of the watchtower, Aragorn had found two of the Ringwraiths, no doubt responsible for the cry that had awoken himself and the hobbits in the cavern.

With barely any halt in his step, the ever agile Ranger was not about to give them any chance to escape and cause harm to the halflings. With his sword balanced in his hand and steely determination written on his rugged face, he bounded over a large boulder directly at the hooded figures.

The two Ringwraiths faced the human, drawing forth their own swords, and lunging at him, their aim to cause a mortal wound. Strider could hear the sound of his sword passing through the tatters of their black cloaks, the fabric tearing in a number of places, but seemingly not inflicting any injury or causing his foe to cry out in pain.

The two wraiths let forth another eerie cry as they clashed swords with the Ranger. Strider's fury never subsided and the intensity of the blows from his swords increased along with the speed at which he delivered them.

The three hobbits standing by each other in the cavern, could not see the tumultuous battle being waged between the Ranger and the wraiths, and the rock face made hearing anything specific difficult.

"Do you think we should go and look for Frodo now?" Merry asked Samwise.

"Mr Strider said we need to stay here," Sam reminded him, but there was a part of him that wanted to go and look for his master, despite the Ranger's stern warning.

Just as the words left Sam's lips, a scream echoed through the darkness, only this time it was a different scream. It was a hobbit scream.

"Frodo!" Pippin said, barely above a whisper at the sound of his cousin's voice.

Going completely against what he had just said, Sam forgot about anything the Ranger had said, and made to run off in the direction he had heard Frodo. His sword was in his hand, the grip on it a combination of wanting to defend his master against whatever had made Frodo scream, but also from the fear of what they might see.

"I am coming, Mr Frodo!" Sam shouted, not knowing if his master would be able to hear his words.

Merry and Pippin also wasted no time in following the stout hobbit, and all three quickly fled in the opposite direction of the Ranger, towards the ruins of the watchtower.

Strider had also heard the scream, and recognized it to be Frodo, rather than one of the other hobbits. He paused in the middle of the fight briefly, feeling a sense of dread wash over him. He was almost unlucky enough to be caught by a blow from one of the wraith's sword whilst he had been distracted. What fate had befallen the ring-bearer he did not know, but he knew that it couldn't be good.

With a flurry of blows from both hands on his sword, the Ranger was able to defeat his foe, the two wraiths escaping over the rocky face of the hill, towards the bottom. They were satisfied that they had done enough for the others to achieve their common goal and capture the halfling and the 'one ring'.

Be cause of the distance between him and the direction he had heard the scream from, it was only now that he was aware of the deviousness and trickery of the two Ringwraith's that had been before him.

Strider wasted no time in running towards Frodo's scream, the unevenness of the ground not a concern as he feared what had happened to gentle natured hobbit.

The footsteps grew louder and closer, Frodo, unable to draw his gaze away from the archway that stood in front of him. The footsteps became more defined, as the metal boot made contact with the stone work. The first thing Frodo was able to see of his attacker, was the ragged tendril that made up the bottom of its cloak.

Frodo was unable to hide his gasp of terror as he recognized the Ringwraith. He knew what its purpose would be, his eyes quickly looking at the breast pocket. His free hand straying to it, feeling the vibration and hearing the incessant hum growing louder and louder.

As Sam, Merry and Pippin reached the ruins of the watch tower, they were able to see, Frodo standing before the Black Rider as it walked towards him. His sword slashing back and forth, but with no real power in his wrist and fear consuming him.

"Frodo!" Pippin cried out, causing the Ringwraith to turn and face the voice that had interrupted him. Frodo too had turned in surprised, part of him relieved to see his friends, but then fearing for their safety.

Sam watched in horror as the three devilled and cloaked figures walked towards his master with menace and evil purpose. From where they stood, there was no way that neither he or the two cousins could reach Frodo and aid him in escaping.

Merry looked around, his mind quickly assessing any way that he might be able to help his older cousin. From this point on, the whole series of events that were about to play out in front of them were like some terrible dream. Everyone's movements and reactions appeared to be in slow motion.

Fear written on his face as Frodo went to step backwards from his imposing assailants, still trying in vain to ward them off with his futile sword thrusts. Without looking down at where he placed his feet, he gave a short cry of surprise when he tripped over a broken stone tile beneath him. He was unable to keep his balance, falling to the ground, and losing his unstable grip on the sword.

Sam and the others tried desperately to think of a way to reach Frodo and help defend him from such horrific foes. They all had also let out cries of anguish as they saw the gentle-natured hobbit trip and fall.

Merry gave a shout and began running at the two of the Ringwraiths, telling himself that Frodo meant more to him than any concern for his own safety. He had to do something.

And without concern for his own peril, the brave-hearted hobbit ran at the foes, his main focus on drawing their attention from Frodo. Sam and Pippin, although afraid themselves, took a little courage from the sight of their friend running towards the cloaked figures, following him as quickly as they could, determined to do whatever they could.

Two of the Ringwraith's whirled around at the sound of Merry's shouting and saw the three small halflings running at them, with swords drawn and purpose on their faces.

Merry slashed towards the creatures descending on them, but being a few feet away, his blows did not come into contact, nor were they deterred, and drew forth their own long devilled blades, ready to strike at the small folk.

Sam had almost closed his eyes and resolved himself to whatever fate awaited him as the Ringwraith neared, but then, from a different part of the ruins, a different cry could be heard. One of menace, but with strength behind it. Strider came into view, wielding his large sword in his competent hand and in the other, a flaming torch.

Merry and the other hobbits were confused for a moment until the Ranger stood in front of them and through clenched teeth, "This is not a fight for hobbits. Get back!"

The three stunned hobbits watched in awe as Strider faced the two imposing figures, stabbing at them with accuracy and power, the creatures giving out horrific cries. They were no of pain, for these creatures knew no flesh, but they echoed with anger and hatred towards the human who dared to confront them. Servants of Sauron were not easily drawn from their task.

While the Ranger battled two of the Ringwraiths, and the three hobbits watched on in fear and amazement, the Ranger's skills and actions, the third Ringwraith, was still focused on gaining the 'one ring' from Frodo.

Frodo had been trying to back away from the creature, whilst still in a fallen position on the stone floor. His fear had risen to new heights and his blue eyes wide, his mouth drawn into a grimace as he desperately thought of how he would escape.

Frodo had not seen Sam and his cousins try and take on the two Ringwraiths. In the back of his mind, he recalled a cry in the night, the one that had Strider had given, defending his friends. As he looked up at death itself, or at least the one that would bring him such and end, Frodo found that any escape path been taken away.

Behind him, a fallen pillar, cold and stoic in history, but hard and unmoving. Frodo drew his legs along side the stone column, trying to protect as much of himself as possible from the wraith that loomed over him. He swallowed hard, knowing that all was about to come to an end.

The lead Ringwraith, draw forth a menacing looking blade, black in colour and looking colder than any steel blade could be. The footsteps towards him resounding against the stonework underneath him.

For one split second, Frodo heard a voice in his head, not recognizing the speaker. But it urged him to use the ring. To hide himself as his Uncle Bilbo had done back in the Shire.

The urgency at this time was much different, and he remembered how it had felt to put the ring on back in the village of Bree. He couldn't help but think that this was his only chance of hiding the ring from Sauron's mercenary.

At the end of that time, Frodo knew he had no other choice. He would have to wear the 'one ring' to prevent it falling into the possession of those who would see harm come to his friends and homeland. Closing his eyes and taking one last deep breath and holding it, he slipped the gold band onto his ring finger.

It was at that moment, that the world became distorted and shaded in darkness. The tones of the sky changed, and the atmosphere took on a sombre appearance. Before him now, the Ringwraith was no longer garb in the tattered rags that had fallen over its hollow form.

Frodo found himself gazing on the remnants of a once proud king of men, that had fallen into shadow and his will taken away by the malice and greed of Sauron. The crown that sat on his head, no longer made of gold as it had one been, but rather now a symbol of his enslavement.

The wraith was still searching for the ring, able to detect its presence, but unable to grasp it for his own. His skeletal hand reached forth, attempting to seek out the band from the halfling's hand. Frodo found himself using all of his strength to resist the keep his hand and the ring away.

Without warning, the wraith had put an end to the battle of frustration to gain the ring, stabbing forth with his evil blade, puncturing the halfling in the left shoulder. The blade cut deep and painfully through the soft skin, the hobbit shrieking in agony. After a seemingly endless moment, the blade was pulled out, still scarring the flesh as it exited the gash.

Frodo fought hard against the onslaught of pain, sweat forming on his brow, using his left hand to pull the right away from the wraith. His fingers struggled to grip the small band, feeling himself becoming semi-conscious, and knowing that he could not collapse whilst still wearing the ring on his hand.

With a weakened tug on the band, the gold ring slipped from the hand of the halfling, enabling him to become visible again. Though it was not his physical form that shattered the hearts of his friends, but a second shriek of agony that drew the attention of all.

"MR FRODO!" Sam shouted, never hearing his master utter such a cry before.

The stout hobbit's vision had become blocked by that of the head Ringwraith. His attention and that of Merry and Pippin had still mostly been on Strider and the tumultuous fight that was still occurring between the Ranger and the two dark servants.

Sam now forgot all about watching the Ranger, and taking a few steps back around some stone ruins, rushed to get to his stricken friend.

Strider had heard Frodo's scream of pain, but was unaware of what had unfolded. With a flick of his wrist and the sword, the two Ringwraiths that he had been battling, suddenly retreated away from the ruins, back to whence they had come. Their screams echoing into the night.

Strider had stopped calmly for a moment, noting that the remaining Wraith had turned its shrouded head at the screams uttered by the other two. This time he did not seek his sword to vanquish his foe, but rather the one other weapon that he held in his left hand.

As the Wraith turned to face him, Strider threw the lit torch where the face should be, the creature flailing and screaming as the flames around it grew and seemed to consume him. It followed the other two into the darkness, the fire still burning the black fabric of its cloaks.

Watching for a moment to make sure they would return soon, Strider heard Sam's desperate pleas for him to come and help his master. Merry and Pippin had followed Sam, but at seeing their cousin gravely wounded, stood stunned for a moment and not knowing what needed to be done.

Sam had reached Frodo as the last of the Ringwraith's was defeated by Strider, but his relief at reaching his master's side soon resolved into fear and horror as he saw the stab wound in Frodo's shoulder.

Frodo was unable to hold back the cries of pain, his face pulled into an awful grimace, his teeth clenched together tightly as he tried his best to work with the pain and not against it. But his efforts were getting sluggish and weaker. Though the initial scream had been more from the shock of being stabbed, the pain now engulfing his whole body.

"Strider!" Sam shouted a second time, just in time to see the Ranger kneel at his master's side. Sam couldn't stop the tears from running down his face at Frodo's fate.

"Pippin, get my bag, hurry!" Strider instructed, not looking up at the youngest hobbit, but the urgency in his voice being emphasis enough of how dire Frodo condition was. "Merry, you go and get that fire in the camp going good and strong now." The hobbit obeying immediately.

Pippin was halfway back with the bag in hand, running as fast as his little legs would carry him, when Frodo let out another cry of pain, tearing at his heart. He almost threw the bag at the Ranger in his haste to get to his fallen cousin.

Strider didn't explain what he was doing, reaching in and finding some bandaging material and balling it up and compressing it against the open wound, trying to stop the blood flow.

Frodo emitted a low guttural moan from the contact of the cloth, Sam immediately reaching for his hand and squeezing it gently to let the injured hobbit know that he was there. Whether his master was aware of his presence was difficult to tell.

"I am going to carry him back to the camp. I will be able to tend to him better there, and the warmth of the fire will be useful," Strider informed the two hobbits.

Merry had been scurry about the campsite, finding every stick of wood there was to be found. All the time, his heart constricting with his worry for Frodo, his hands shaking from what such a dreadful injury might mean for his cousin.

"Mr Pippin, you take the bag back for Strider," Sam urged the young hobbit, noting his pale face and the tears he had shed for Frodo. No doubt he had not seen Frodo so badly hurt before. There was a brief nod from Pippin, too scared to use his voice and his eyes fixed on every movement the Ranger made towards his cousin.

Frodo was almost spent physically and mentally from the pain, exhaustion setting into his features and his head lolling to one side. Strider carefully move his legs so that he would be able to lift in him in one fluent motion. The lifting of his shoulders and upper body was going to prove much more difficult and heart wrenching for all of them.

"Sam, you lift his head as much as you can. No doubt he will feel pain, but that may become unavoidable for a moment," Strider instructed. Sam nodded his understanding and set himself in place behind his master's dark head of curls.

Frodo's eyes had been closed, and Sam thought him to be unconscious until Strider placed his large arms underneath the hobbit's lower body. Immediately Frodo's eyes flew open as pain coursed through him. Sam did as he was asked and slipped his hands gently beneath the curls, lifting Frodo's head a few inches off the ground.

Frodo had utter half a cry, his voice and body unable to provide more than that to the pain from movement. His head rested against the Ranger's broad chest as Strider stood to his full height, bearing the small weight as though the most precious burden he had ever had to bear.

Strider's own features grew into a mask of concentration as he become aware of how dire the injury was to the halfling and what skills were going to be necessary to help him survive. They had only a little time, or Frodo's life might slip away from them forever.

Pippin came back to the campsite before Sam and Strider. The Ranger's steps were small, trying as best he could not to jostle his patient. The ground was uneven and any slip may be fatal for Frodo.

Merry had stopped gathering the wood as soon as he heard rushed footsteps approaching. The tear stained face of his younger cousin made his own heart constrict further. They held each other as they stood back and allowed the Ranger as much room as necessary to approach the blankets by the fire that had been carefully laid out.

"Sam, we are going to need as much water as we can spare. If the skins are emptied tonight, we will be able to gain more tomorrow," the Ranger said, reassuring the hobbits about their water supply, but not certain what tomorrow might bring in terms of continuing their journey.

Strider carefully as he could, lay Frodo on the blankets, easing him down, but still able to hear barely audible whimpers of pain that escaped the pale lips. The hobbit's face was waxen in appearance, his body trembling a little from the torrent of pain.

Sam appeared at his side with a bucket of clean fresh water. Merry and Pippin sat together, looking on, but their emotions and worry for their cousin, preventing them from doing much more than watch. They each held a blanket, ready to pass them to Strider when he asked for them. At least they would be able to offer some comfort to Frodo, even though a small gesture.

Strider placed a folded cloak beneath Frodo's head, keeping it a little more elevated than the rest of his body. The darkening stain a little more visible now with the flicker of the campfire giving a little welcome light.

Sam wanted desperately to help, but was mindful of disturbing the Ranger's concentration from the most important task at hand. His gaze kept wandering back to Frodo's face, noticing the closed eyes and the pinched expression at times.

"I am going to cut away the waist coat, and then cut the shirt here," Strider explained, pointing with his finger to the general area. There was no other choice, any attempt at trying to remove the weskit by conventional methods would cause Frodo unbearable pain, perhaps much more than any of them could risk.

"You might want to hold his hand while I do this, and be prepared to hold him a little firmer if I ask for it," Strider warned. With a small knife, he began cutting at the stitching that held together the side seam of Frodo's vest.

Sam took Frodo's limp hand in his own, noting that it was cold to the touch. Even pressing his lips to the surface of the skin told him that his master's body was dealing the effects of shock.

"Its alright, my dear, you just rest and let Mr Strider take good care of you," Sam said, barely able to control the emotion that was just under the surface. He told himself that he had to remain strong for his master.

Frodo turned his head slightly as part of his subconscious recognized tugs to the fabric of his vest. His lips pressed together as though he wanted to speak, but the exhaustion prevented him from finding the voice to do so. His eyebrows quirked, and then his eyes squeezed tightly together as the flame of pain was reignited within him. His suffering was evident to all and not easy for any of them to see.

A few more moments and the front of the vest was removed to allow clear view of the soiled and blood-stained shirt. The back of the vest remained underneath Frodo's shoulder and for now, there it would remain.

Strider cut a large section from the left side of Frodo's shirt, not wanting to expose his entire upper chest to the outside elements, and risk any further chill to his skin. "Hand me a cloth please."

A cloth was placed in his hand by Pippin, tears still falling down the younger hobbit's face as he watched the Ranger work on his barely conscious cousin. The sight of the blood on his shirt and the gasps of pain from Frodo were almost too much.

"This is going to hurt him, hold him steady Sam," Strider said, his voice solemn for what was going to be a terrible experience for all.

No soon had the cloth been placed with a gentle hand over the wound, Frodo attempted to rise, wanting to escape the pain, his upper body writhing in agony and torment. Sam's tears had resurfaced, but his strength held, doing his best to restrain the ailing hobbit and prevent further injury to himself.

"Stop it, can't you see you are hurting him more. He can't take it, stop it," Pippin blurted out, and then burrowing his head against Merry, his emotions running over.

Strider heard Pippin's requests to stop, but did not comply. They had to do as much as they could for Frodo to save his life. When he did withdraw the cloth a few moments later, reaching for a fresh one, he was startled by what he saw.

The ranger couldn't describe it well enough, and though one would expect the cloth to be stained red, the colour seemed much darker. Black almost. The amount of blood, or the lack of it also concerned Strider. There was not enough. The edges of the wound crusting with dark congealed blood.

"What does that mean?" Merry asked upon seeing the stained cloth. He had seen blood before, but never that colour on any hobbit nor any other creature. Sam appeared to be just as puzzled by the dark colour.

"Frodo has been stabbed by a most evil weapon. Perhaps by the most deadliest weapon at the hands of the servants of Sauron. A Morgul Blade," Strider said grimly.

The hobbits looked back at each other, fearful, but having not heard such a name before. What it meant for Frodo's chances of survival and recovery they were uncertain.

"This wound is beyond my skill to heal. Frodo needs Elvish medicine. I will do what I can until we can reach the safety of Rivendell," Strider admitted. He had seen but one such injury before, and he had no wish to see any other living creature have to experience such torment and cruelty.

"Sam, I am going to have to ask for your assistance. But this task I fear will cause much distress to you and Frodo. You must remain strong for your master."

Sam nodded his head in agreement, but was not trusting of his voice. He did not want to cause his master any more pain or discomfort. "Tell me what to do."

"I need you to gently push the skin together to close the wound, so that I may wrap it. I dare not stitch it as I fear of the infection that may be causing the dark stain to his blood," Strider said. Though he did not lie to the hobbits, he erred on the side of caution and gave only what information was absolutely necessary. To tell them of the horrors that Frodo may face from such a dreadful injury would do naught good until they could seek further assistance.

"With my bare hands?" Sam said, his mind a whirl at such a thing. "I will do what I must of course, but I fear to say that doing such a thing to my master is done because there is no other choice."

"Wash your hands thoroughly in a small amount of water that we have remaining," Strider instructed. "I am going to give a few small sips into Frodo's mouth. We will need to keep his fluid intake up over the next few days, even if he is unable to drink for himself."

Sam washed his hands as was asked, his heart pounding in his chest and his knees weak. Strider had taken one of the water skins and after lifting Frodo's head as gently as he could, poured a few drops into the hobbits mouth.

Frodo had been scarcely aware of the Ranger's actions, letting forth a small cough as the liquid slid down the back of his throat. His response to anything around him become more and more lax, his consciousness holding on by a thin thread.

Strider readied the bandages that would be used to bind the shoulder wound, shortening the lengths of fabric as was necessary, allowing for the smaller body size. He looked back at Sam and saw the uncertainty written on his face about what he was being asked to do, but the stoic expression about what needed to be done was also present.

The Ranger turned to Merry and Pippin, knowing that they would experience just as much anguish as Sam at what was about to happen to Frodo. "This is going to hurt him a lot, but I need to bandage the wound. To help stop the bleeding and to keep out any further risk of infection."

The two hobbits huddled closer into each other, heeding the Ranger's explanation, trying to use each other as a source of strength for Frodo's sake.

"Ready?" Strider asked Sam in a quiet voice. The stout hobbit nodded briefly and concentrated on Frodo's shoulder.

"Place your hands here and here," Strider instructed, pointing to the area of skin where the arm joined the shoulder and up higher on the neck near the collar bone. "Push a little, but not too hard all at once."

"Alright, now!" Strider said and Sam sprung into action, placing his hands exactly where he had been shown and pressing the skin, urging them together so that the gash was closed. The wound began to bleed again, the darkened blood oozing out and running down underneath Frodo's armpit.

What Sam was not prepared for was the utter primal scream of pain that his master let forth when his hands started pushing. It was low in tone and held so much pain within it, Sam's face awash with tears, but his hands remaining firm.

Merry and Pippin cried against each other, Frodo's cried of pain tearing at their hearts and souls. They tried to shield their eyes from the site of the blood.

"He cannot take much more than this," Sam said as his master tried his best to buck against the hands that restrained him. "He is hurting so much."

The struggles beneath Sam's hands although strong to begin with, soon faltered and began to wan as Frodo's strength reached its breaking point. His breathing was becoming more and more laboured. Tears streamed down his face when his voice became hoarse and barely audible.

Sam felt his own heartbeat stop, when without warning, the cries and struggles ceased. Frodo's body beneath his hands went completing limp, a small breath of air escaping through his pale lips, and his head lolling to the side.

Strider had seen Frodo cease moving, and had immediately stopped his bandaging of the wound, placing two fingers against the halfing's throat, looking for the beat of life. It was there, perhaps a little sluggish and weak, but Frodo was still alive.

"Fear not, Samwise. Your master has reached the end of his endurance and is unconscious. Do not fear, he has done very well, when others may not have been so lucky to survive this long from such a wound. He is now without pain for a time, and it is best so. You may remove your hands. I am almost finished bandaging the wound."

It took a few moments for the words that Strider spoke to sink in for Sam. He began to lift his hands from his master, they were stained dark in places from the blood, and trembling greatly.

Merry and Pippin had pulled themselves out of their own emotional states after seeing the distressed Sam, going to him and helping to his feet briefly and leading him to a large rock only a few steps away. Sam's gait was unsteady and his own features pale, that they feared he was on the verge of collapse himself.

Sam held the two hands up in front of him, speaking out loud, but at no one in particular. His voice was full of emotions, confusion and horror at what he had just done.

"My hands held Mr Frodo's wound together as you commanded. Now they are stained with blood and caused more pain. I shall never forget this night. Not at long as I still breathe. My hands, his blood…….."

TO BE CONTINUED………………

Author's Notes:

Okay, as you will have no doubt seen, there are a lot of variations to both the book and the movie in this chapter. These are where my own creative pursuits have lead to different things happening, hopefully keeping up the suspense and giving you something to read and enjoy rather than being predictable.

The scene with Merry and the leech, is setting up background information for much much later in the storyline. As are a number of other clues which I keep writing into all of my chapters so far about each of the characters and how I choose to portray them.

I never did like the scene with Strider in the movie on Weathertop, and I wanted to do something a little different to the book. I do not think I have done this particular part of the book total justice.

Some of the scenes like Sam seeing the blood on his hands don't come from Lord of the Rings fanfiction or movie at all, but rather other material which I have used, most of what I have written for other stories in the past and shifted the words and used them here.

The scenes with Frodo's stabbing could not be changed very much from what readers are probably familiar with. I hope that people enjoy my version. I have not gone into much detail of Frodo's vision of the Ringwraith's when he put the ring on at Weathertop and that is for a deliberate purpose when I what to revisit what he saw much later in the story.

The next chapter will be the last for this story. Though I am expecting it to be as long as this one with a lot more detail about the journey from Weathertop to Rivendell and my opinion on what may have happened. Again, there will be distinct differences between the movie and the book and my story, and that is deliberate. I wanted a totally new version of what happened at the Ford and beforehand.

From this story – the saga will move onto SPY IN RIVENDELL which I intend to change a little once I have finished this story. There are lots of new surprises coming, and perhaps some things that are not what they seem.

Lastly, thanks to all who have read this story so far. Updating has not been fast. Mostly due to real life which has prevented this story being updated any earlier. But also because I want to make sure that I tell the story the way I have planned out – rather than rush it and forget things I wanted to include.

Enjoy.

JULES


	13. Sacrifice

ESCAPE THE DARKNESS

**By JULES**

**Authors Quick Note – **This story explores the idea about what might have happened if Strider had come to the Shire to forewarn Bilbo Baggins about the Ring Wraiths that would soon come hunting for the One Ring. Commences a few days before Bilbo's Birthday party and before Gandalf returns to the shire as well.

Strider had vows to protect Bilbo when the Ring Wraiths are sent by the Dark Lord but he is unaware that the legacy of who is to carry the Ring to be destroyed falls upon a totally different Baggins hobbit.

**Disclaimer - **I do not own any of these characters but enjoy writing them and their

adventures together.

**NEXT CHAPTER**

_**SACRIFICE **_

_**recap of last chapter:**_

With a weakened tug on the band, the gold ring slipped from the hand of the halfling, enabling him to become visible again. Though it was not his physical form that shattered the hearts of his friends, but a second shriek of agony that drew the attention of all.

"MR FRODO!" Sam shouted, never hearing his master utter such a cry before.

The stout hobbit's vision had become blocked by that of the head Ringwraith. His attention and that of Merry and Pippin had still mostly been on Strider and the tumultuous fight that was still occurring between the Ranger and the two dark servants.

Sam now forgot all about watching the Ranger, and taking a few steps back around some stone ruins, rushed to get to his stricken friend.

Strider had heard Frodo's scream of pain, but was unaware of what had unfolded. With a flick of his wrist and the sword, the two Ringwraiths that he had been battling, suddenly retreated away from the ruins, back to whence they had come. Their screams echoing into the night.

Strider had stopped calmly for a moment, noting that the remaining Wraith had turned its shrouded head at the screams uttered by the other two. This time he did not seek his sword to vanquish his foe, but rather the one other weapon that he held in his left hand.

As the Wraith turned to face him, Strider threw the lit torch where the face should be, the creature flailing and screaming as the flames around it grew and seemed to consume him. It followed the other two into the darkness, the fire still burning the black fabric of its cloaks.

Watching for a moment to make sure they would return soon, Strider heard Sam's desperate pleas for him to come and help his master. Merry and Pippin had followed

Sam, but at seeing their cousin gravely wounded, stood stunned for a moment and not knowing what needed to be done.

Sam had reached Frodo as the last of the Ringwraith's was defeated by Strider, but his relief at reaching his master's side soon resolved into fear and horror as he saw the stab wound in Frodo's shoulder.

Frodo was unable to hold back the cries of pain, his face pulled into an awful grimace, his teeth clenched together tightly as he tried his best to work with the pain and not against it. But his efforts were getting sluggish and weaker. Though the initial scream had been more from the shock of being stabbed, the pain now engulfing his whole body.

"Strider!" Sam shouted a second time, just in time to see the Ranger kneel at his master's side. Sam couldn't stop the tears from running down his face at Frodo's fate.

"Pippin, get my bag, hurry!" Strider instructed, not looking up at the youngest hobbit, but the urgency in his voice being emphasis enough of how dire Frodo condition was. "Merry, you go and get that fire in the camp going good and strong now." The hobbit obeying immediately.

Pippin was halfway back with the bag in hand, running as fast as his little legs would carry him, when Frodo let out another cry of pain, tearing at his heart. He almost threw the bag at the Ranger in his haste to get to his fallen cousin.

Strider didn't explain what he was doing, reaching in and finding some bandaging material and balling it up and compressing it against the open wound, trying to stop the blood flow.

Frodo emitted a low guttural moan from the contact of the cloth, Sam immediately reaching for his hand and squeezing it gently to let the injured hobbit know that he was there. Whether his master was aware of his presence was difficult to tell.

"I am going to carry him back to the camp. I will be able to tend to him better there, and the warmth of the fire will be useful," Strider informed the two hobbits.

Merry had been scurry about the campsite, finding every stick of wood there was to be found. All the time, his heart constricting with his worry for Frodo, his hands shaking from what such a dreadful injury might mean for his cousin.

"Mr Pippin, you take the bag back for Strider," Sam urged the young hobbit, noting his pale face and the tears he had shed for Frodo. No doubt he had not seen Frodo so badly hurt before. There was a brief nod from Pippin, too scared to use his voice and his eyes fixed on every movement the Ranger made towards his cousin.

Frodo was almost spent physically and mentally from the pain, exhaustion setting into his features and his head lolling to one side. Strider carefully move his legs so that he would be able to lift in him in one fluent motion. The lifting of his shoulders and upper body was going to prove much more difficult and heart wrenching for all of them.

"Sam, you lift his head as much as you can. No doubt he will feel pain, but that may become unavoidable for a moment," Strider instructed. Sam nodded his understanding and set himself in place behind his master's dark head of curls.

Frodo's eyes had been closed, and Sam thought him to be unconscious until Strider placed his large arms underneath the hobbit's lower body. Immediately Frodo's eyes flew open as pain coursed through him. Sam did as he was asked and slipped his hands gently beneath the curls, lifting Frodo's head a few inches off the ground.

Frodo had utter half a cry, his voice and body unable to provide more than that to the pain from movement. His head rested against the Ranger's broad chest as Strider stood to his full height, bearing the small weight as though the most precious burden he had ever had to bear.

Strider's own features grew into a mask of concentration as he become aware of how dire the injury was to the halfling and what skills were going to be necessary to help him survive. They had only a little time, or Frodo's life might slip away from them forever.

Pippin came back to the campsite before Sam and Strider. The Ranger's steps were small, trying as best he could not to jostle his patient. The ground was uneven and any slip may be fatal for Frodo.

Merry had stopped gathering the wood as soon as he heard rushed footsteps approaching. The tear stained face of his younger cousin made his own heart constrict further. They held each other as they stood back and allowed the Ranger as much room as necessary to approach the blankets by the fire that had been carefully laid out.

"Sam, we are going to need as much water as we can spare. If the skins are emptied tonight, we will be able to gain more tomorrow," the Ranger said, reassuring the hobbits about their water supply, but not certain what tomorrow might bring in terms of continuing their journey.

Strider carefully as he could, lay Frodo on the blankets, easing him down, but still able to hear barely audible whimpers of pain that escaped the pale lips. The hobbit's face was waxen in appearance, his body trembling a little from the torrent of pain.

Sam appeared at his side with a bucket of clean fresh water. Merry and Pippin sat together, looking on, but their emotions and worry for their cousin, preventing them from doing much more than watch. They each held a blanket, ready to pass them to Strider when he asked for them. At least they would be able to offer some comfort to Frodo, even though a small gesture.

Strider placed a folded cloak beneath Frodo's head, keeping it a little more elevated than the rest of his body. The darkening stain a little more visible now with the flicker of the campfire giving a little welcome light.

Sam wanted desperately to help, but was mindful of disturbing the Ranger's concentration from the most important task at hand. His gaze kept wandering back to Frodo's face, noticing the closed eyes and the pinched expression at times.

"I am going to cut away the waist coat, and then cut the shirt here," Strider explained, pointing with his finger to the general area. There was no other choice, any attempt at trying to remove the weskit by conventional methods would cause Frodo unbearable pain, perhaps much more than any of them could risk.

"You might want to hold his hand while I do this, and be prepared to hold him a little firmer if I ask for it," Strider warned. With a small knife, he began cutting at the stitching that held together the side seam of Frodo's vest.

Sam took Frodo's limp hand in his own, noting that it was cold to the touch. Even pressing his lips to the surface of the skin told him that his master's body was dealing the effects of shock.

"Its alright, my dear, you just rest and let Mr Strider take good care of you," Sam said, barely able to control the emotion that was just under the surface. He told himself that he had to remain strong for his master.

Frodo turned his head slightly as part of his subconscious recognized tugs to the fabric of his vest. His lips pressed together as though he wanted to speak, but the exhaustion prevented him from finding the voice to do so. His eyebrows quirked, and then his eyes squeezed tightly together as the flame of pain was reignited within him. His suffering was evident to all and not easy for any of them to see.

A few more moments and the front of the vest was removed to allow clear view of the soiled and blood-stained shirt. The back of the vest remained underneath Frodo's shoulder and for now, there it would remain.

Strider cut a large section from the left side of Frodo's shirt, not wanting to expose his entire upper chest to the outside elements, and risk any further chill to his skin. "Hand me a cloth please."

A cloth was placed in his hand by Pippin, tears still falling down the younger hobbit's face as he watched the Ranger work on his barely conscious cousin. The sight of the blood on his shirt and the gasps of pain from Frodo were almost too much.

"This is going to hurt him, hold him steady Sam," Strider said, his voice solemn for what was going to be a terrible experience for all.

No soon had the cloth been placed with a gentle hand over the wound, Frodo attempted to rise, wanting to escape the pain, his upper body writhing in agony and torment. Sam's tears had resurfaced, but his strength held, doing his best to restrain the ailing hobbit and prevent further injury to himself.

"Stop it, can't you see you are hurting him more. He can't take it, stop it," Pippin blurted out, and then burrowing his head against Merry, his emotions running over.

Strider heard Pippin's requests to stop, but did not comply. They had to do as much as they could for Frodo to save his life. When he did withdraw the cloth a few moments later, reaching for a fresh one, he was startled by what he saw.

The ranger couldn't describe it well enough, and though one would expect the cloth to be stained red, the colour seemed much darker. Black almost. The amount of blood, or the lack of it also concerned Strider. There was not enough. The edges of the wound crusting with dark congealed blood.

"What does that mean?" Merry asked upon seeing the stained cloth. He had seen blood before, but never that colour on any hobbit nor any other creature. Sam appeared to be just as puzzled by the dark colour.

"Frodo has been stabbed by a most evil weapon. Perhaps by the most deadliest weapon at the hands of the servants of Sauron. A Morgul Blade," Strider said grimly.

The hobbits looked back at each other, fearful, but having not heard such a name before. What it meant for Frodo's chances of survival and recovery they were uncertain.

"This wound is beyond my skill to heal. Frodo needs Elvish medicine. I will do what I can until we can reach the safety of Rivendell," Strider admitted. He had seen but one such injury before, and he had no wish to see any other living creature have to experience such torment and cruelty.

"Sam, I am going to have to ask for your assistance. But this task I fear will cause much distress to you and Frodo. You must remain strong for your master."

Sam nodded his head in agreement, but was not trusting of his voice. He did not want to cause his master any more pain or discomfort. "Tell me what to do."

"I need you to gently push the skin together to close the wound, so that I may wrap it. I dare not stitch it as I fear of the infection that may be causing the dark stain to his blood," Strider said. Though he did not lie to the hobbits, he erred on the side of caution and gave only what information was absolutely necessary. To tell them of the horrors that Frodo may face from such a dreadful injury would do naught good until they could seek further assistance.

"With my bare hands?" Sam said, his mind a whirl at such a thing. "I will do what I must of course, but I fear to say that doing such a thing to my master is done because there is no other choice."

"Wash your hands thoroughly in a small amount of water that we have remaining," Strider instructed. "I am going to give a few small sips into Frodo's mouth. We will need to keep his fluid intake up over the next few days, even if he is unable to drink for himself."

Sam washed his hands as was asked, his heart pounding in his chest and his knees weak. Strider had taken one of the water skins and after lifting Frodo's head as gently as he could, poured a few drops into the hobbits mouth.

Frodo had been scarcely aware of the Ranger's actions, letting forth a small cough as the liquid slid down the back of his throat. His response to anything around him become more and more lax, his consciousness holding on by a thin thread.

Strider readied the bandages that would be used to bind the shoulder wound, shortening the lengths of fabric as was necessary, allowing for the smaller body size. He looked back at Sam and saw the uncertainty written on his face about what he was being asked to do, but the stoic expression about what needed to be done was also present.

The Ranger turned to Merry and Pippin, knowing that they would experience just as much anguish as Sam at what was about to happen to Frodo. "This is going to hurt him a lot, but I need to bandage the wound. To help stop the bleeding and to keep out any further risk of infection."

The two hobbits huddled closer into each other, heeding the Ranger's explanation, trying to use each other as a source of strength for Frodo's sake.

"Ready?" Strider asked Sam in a quiet voice. The stout hobbit nodded briefly and concentrated on Frodo's shoulder.

"Place your hands here and here," Strider instructed, pointing to the area of skin where the arm joined the shoulder and up higher on the neck near the collar bone. "Push a little, but not too hard all at once."

"Alright, now!" Strider said and Sam sprung into action, placing his hands exactly where he had been shown and pressing the skin, urging them together so that the gash was closed. The wound began to bleed again, the darkened blood oozing out and running down underneath Frodo's armpit.

What Sam was not prepared for was the utter primal scream of pain that his master let forth when his hands started pushing. It was low in tone and held so much pain within it, Sam's face awash with tears, but his hands remaining firm.

Merry and Pippin cried against each other, Frodo's cried of pain tearing at their hearts and souls. They tried to shield their eyes from the site of the blood.

"He cannot take much more than this," Sam said as his master tried his best to buck against the hands that restrained him. "He is hurting so much."

The struggles beneath Sam's hands although strong to begin with, soon faltered and began to wan as Frodo's strength reached its breaking point. His breathing was becoming more and more laboured. Tears streamed down his face when his voice became hoarse and barely audible.

Sam felt his own heartbeat stop, when without warning, the cries and struggles ceased. Frodo's body beneath his hands went completing limp, a small breath of air escaping through his pale lips, and his head lolling to the side.

Strider had seen Frodo cease moving, and had immediately stopped his bandaging of the wound, placing two fingers against the halfling's throat, looking for the beat of life. It was there, perhaps a little sluggish and weak, but Frodo was still alive.

"Fear not, Samwise. Your master has reached the end of his endurance and is unconscious. Do not fear, he has done very well, when others may not have been so lucky to survive this long from such a wound. He is now without pain for a time, and it is best so. You may remove your hands. I am almost finished bandaging the wound."

It took a few moments for the words that Strider spoke to sink in for Sam. He began to lift his hands from his master, they were stained dark in places from the blood, and trembling greatly.

Merry and Pippin had pulled themselves out of their own emotional states after seeing the distressed Sam, going to him and helping to his feet briefly and leading him to a large rock only a few steps away. Sam's gait was unsteady and his own features pale, that they feared he was on the verge of collapse.

Sam held the two hands up in front of him, speaking out loud, but at no one in particular. His voice was full of emotions, confusion and horror at what he had just done.

"My hands held Mr Frodo's wound together as you commanded. Now they are stained with the blood and caused him more pain. I shall never forget this night. Not at long as I still breathe. My hands, his blood…….."

_**and now the story moves forward again:**_

Over the horizon, the sky was darkening with nightfall once more. Almost a full day had past since last night, one that the hobbits and Ranger would remember for a long time to come. For Frodo, perhaps a lifetime.

Strider has urged on the side of caution at moving Frodo immediately after the wound was bandaged, sensing that the hobbit's body and strength reserves were spent. Although the need to get Frodo to medical treatment was of the utmost urgency, there was also a need to heed to the signs from his body that spoke of the dangers of making such a journey with too much haste.

Merry, Pippin and Sam had slept for most of the day, out of exhaustion and emotional worry over Frodo. But also at the insistence of Strider, who advised that the majority of their journey to Rivendell where possible would be under the cover of darkness.

For the first few hours, Sam had slept only in short bursts, awakening to each whimper and moan of pain from his master. The stout hobbit had been deeply affected by having to watch his long-time friend battle the pain from the morgul wound.

Strider had stayed beside his patient for most of the night, carefully monitoring his breathing, heart rate and the amount of blood loss. Although the Ranger was competent in his own abilities as a healer, he was truly afraid of what effect of symptoms would develop in someone as slight as Frodo.

Lightly brushing his fingertips over the pale brow, checking for a change in temperature, but also as a comforting gesture, knowing that this gentle being had already suffered greatly at the hands of Sauron's servants and it was difficult to know how much was yet to be endured.

"You have shown yourself to be brave, Frodo," Strider whispered in soothing tones. "Don't let evil rule your path, let the light guide you and the love of those around you be your stepping stones."

The Ranger had never expected a reaction from the hobbit, thinking that Frodo was too deeply unconscious to have taken heed of his comforting words. He was more than surprised to see those beautiful blue eyes open for a moment. There was pain yes, and confusion within those limpid pools, but there also seemed to be a spark of determination.

Frodo's eyes had closed again and he looked as though he had not stirred at all. The temperature of his skin was not a concern at the moment. Not cold and not warm, but somewhere in between.

Strider pulled the blanket covering the hobbit up further until it was under Frodo's chin. The temperature of his skin may be misleading, and he could not risk a chill setting in on an already weakening body.

"Has he woken at all?" came Sam's voice from behind Strider. Turning, the Ranger could see Sam approaching with careful footsteps, as though he was afraid that he would awaken and disturb his master, Mr Frodo.

Although Strider knew that Frodo's opening his eyes didn't amount to much when the injury was so dire, he could see that Sam needed some reassurance that his master was going to be able to overcome this foe. That Sam himself could find a way to cope with the events that had unfolded.

"Frodo opened his eyes but a few moments ago," Strider said truthfully, but leaving out any further details about Frodo's lack of response for most of the night. "He needs to rest at the moment, and any excessive time awake will only deplete his energy levels further. It is best that he sleeps for now."

Sam appeared quite satisfied with the Ranger's explanation, even bending down and sitting beside Strider, and taking the time to tell his master, whilst fussing over the blankets himself. "You heard what Strider here had to say, Mr Frodo. You just rest and don't worry about anything. We are all going to take good care of you."

Sam found himself wiping dry his eyes, trying not to let the tears fall down his face in front of Strider. Not here. Not now, when Frodo needed him the most. He would be the strong one for a while, and care for his master as best he could until they could reach more help at Rivendell.

With their night of walking almost ready to begin, Strider roused Merry and Pippin so that they could eat a little before they set out on the journey. Sam had made some small meals out of fruit and bread and cheese, hoping to tempt Mr Pippin at least.

Both Merry and Pippin still seemed to be lacking in sleep, each clutching a slice of bread in their hand, but looking over forlornly at their unconscious cousin and feeling guilty that they were able to enjoy something so simple as the bread, when Frodo was in so much pain.

"Don't you young hobbits go worrying now, Mr Frodo would not want you to be going without food now on account of his sake!" Sam said, trying to encourage them to eat the morsels of food without sounding like he was scolding them.

"Will Frodo be having anything to eat before we leave?" Pippin asked in a small voice.

Strider smiled and could sense the deep worry and concern plaguing all three hobbits at present about their friend and cousin. "Fear not, I plan to give Frodo a nourishing drink before we leave tonight. Something that will help replenish the blood that he had already lost and help him become a little stronger."

"Is that all? A drink?" Merry asked, not doubting that the Ranger knew what was best, but like Pippin, thinking that Frodo would be needing to consume more than liquid to start the healing process.

"The drink is a special mixture that had been used on many patients in the past who have suffered blood loss and shock such as Frodo. Would you like to help me make it?" Strider asked, knowing that it was very important for the hobbits to feel that they were helping Frodo in some small way.

"Yes," Pippin and Merry both answered in unison. Sam had packed away the dishes, preparing to leave, and as soon as he was done, resumed his seat beside his master.

Strider brought his bag out into the open beside Frodo, and allowed the two wide-eyed and inquisitive hobbits to see what was being prepared. He explained a little about the ingredients as he worked, making sure that the correct measurements were used.

"This is ordinary sugar, to help Frodo regain some energy. Shock and blood loss take their tolls on patient's and take away their strength," the Ranger instructed. Merry and Pippin watched the spoonfuls of sugar being mixed with a cup of water. Only when the sugar was fully dissolved did he reach for the next ingredient.

"This is salt. Like Sam uses in cooking. This is the most important part of the mixture as it will aid Frodo to overcome the effects of blood loss. Three parts water, one part sugar and one part salt."

Pippin could be heard to hitch in his breath at hearing of what the Ranger was mixing for Frodo to drink. He wouldn't dream of touching something as horrid as that to drink. How did Strider think he was going to encourage Frodo to drink it?

"Frodo is not going to like it," Merry said straight forwardly, knowing his cousin's unique stubborn streak that didn't always show through on the surface of his handsome face.

"He probably won't be aware that he is swallowing, and it is best so for now," Strider replied. "I do not expect him to take more than 2 or three spoonfuls now, but we will keep the mixture and when we pause to rest, give him more. It will become a regular part of his care over the next few days to compensate for the amount of blood he has lost."

"Still must taste pretty awful," Pippin admitted, his face grimacing a little at what such a mixture might taste like to someone who was conscious and aware of what was being forced upon them.

"I may need your assistance for a moment," Strider informed them. "Samwise, you support your master's head and I will spoon the mixture carefully into his mouth.

Merry and Pippin, I may need you to calm Frodo should he become more aware and try to expel it."

All three hobbits nodded their understanding and were only too willing to help their stricken friend as much as possible. Sam knelt behind his mater's dark head of curls and after a brief nod from Strider, placed both of his hands very carefully behind Frodo's head. He raised it only a little above the blanket being used as a pillow, fearing that too much movement would disturb the bandaged wound and cause fresh bleeding.

Frodo seemed to sense Sam's touch, at some level anyway, attempting to turn his face a little when he felt himself being moved. But the relief in Sam and the other hobbits was short lived when they heard a raspy gasp of air escape Frodo's lips, indicating that even taking a simple breath was causing him immeasurable pain.

With his lips slightly parted now, Strider had the perfect opportunity to give the first few spoonfuls of his mixture to Frodo. Placing a small amount on the front edge of the spoon, he carefully dribbled the salt and sugar solution into Frodo's mouth.

Merry, Pippin and Sam all held their breath as they waited to see the reaction that they all expected, but fortunately for them and more so for Frodo, it did not eventuate. The small amount of liquid trickling down and coating his throat, his neck muscles contracting enough for them to see the involuntary swallowing.

"You did well, Frodo," Strider whispered to the unconscious hobbit. "Rest now, and continue to regain your strength," he voiced, more for reassurance of Frodo's friends.

He knew that the battle that lay ahead of Frodo would be a long and difficult one, but he tried to give encouragement where he could.

"Is there anything else we can do for him?" Sam asked as the very gently lowered his master's head back onto the makeshift pillow. He caressed the dark curls for a moment, noting their softness, and for a brief moment, feeling utterly helpless that this had happened to Frodo and he had been unable to do anything to prevent it.

Someone as caring, wonderfully giving and generous as his master, who deserved no less than to be loved and be surrounded by his friends and family. Now they all found themselves in an unfamiliar places with even less familiar foes around them, but no less menacing or threatening. For saving Middle Earth Gandalf had said, and Sam fully understood why his master had taken on such a task. To save Hobbiton and those he cared about the most, but who would save Frodo?

"I would like to recheck the wound briefly to make sure the bandages have remained in place and that there has been no significant amount of fresh bleeding, but then we need to begin our journey towards Rivendell whilst the night sky acts as our cloak and shields us against increasing evil.

Once the Ranger was satisfied that he had made Frodo as comfortable as possible to begin walking, he first placed his pack over his shoulder and secured his weapons so that he would have two free hands to carry his injured patient. Wrapping a folder blanket and tucking it around his left arm, Strider placed one hand under Frodo's slender neck, and one underneath his knees and lifted.

Frodo gave a moan of pain that caused concern from Sam and his cousins, but Strider had remained focused on settling the hobbit in his arms, knowing that any amount of movement would undoubtedly cause him discomfort. Apart from the first protest of pain, Frodo made no other sound to show that he had awoken, his head now laying comfortably against the Ranger's arm, the back of his neck supported by the folded blanket.

Strider ensured his sword would be close enough to be drawn against any threat as they walked, but for now their main purpose had to be getting Frodo to Rivendell and the medical attention he desperately needed.

Sam gathered his own belongings, and then tucked the edges of the blanket around his master to help keep out the night air. He would remain as close as he could to his master tonight as they walked, knowing that he needed to know that Frodo was alright.

From the moment they set out that night, Strider became aware of how different the continuation of the night was going to be. Before leaving Bree and before they reached Weathertop, the hobbits had come to sort themselves out into a particular pattern as they walked.

This pattern rarely changed, and it meant that not only could the Ranger keep an alert eye over his companions, but it meant that they were also able to keep track of each other. Should one of them start lagging behind because of tiredness, the other hobbits were soon to notice.

Strider heard a small voice beside him ask, "He is alright isn't he?" Pippin questioned, a frown on his face. A deep concern that the youngest member of the group felt just as any of his companions.

Merry had watched over Frodo when they stopped for short rests and Sam hovered near his master at all times during their journey. Pippin's emotion and inner turmoil over what had happened to his older cousin were more evident in his facial expressions.

"We are doing everything we can to take good care of him, Master Pippin," the Ranger replied, not wanting to dash the young hobbit's hope that Frodo would overcome this most terrible injury, nor put more fear into him over the graveness of the situation.

They were still many days away from the help that Frodo truly needed to survive, but now was not to dwell on what was not before them. For now, he needed to keep the hobbits on continuing towards Rivendell.

"We shall stop here for tonight," Strider announced as they came across a secluded and sheltered area. They had travelled about eight hours this night, more than he had suspected the hobbits to accomplish when their minds were on Frodo.

"Sam, will you get a small fire going. I wish to get some warm liquid down into Frodo's stomach if he will take it. The Ranger knew that a fire was a risk of drawing attention to their whereabouts. But the night air was chilly and it would serve no purpose for any of the hobbits to get too cold during the early morning hours until dawn.

Pippin tried to take his mind off Frodo's condition and their bleak journey, "Dark out here this time of night isn't it?" he asked, before realising how gloomy his question sounded.

Merry put a reassuring hand on the younger hobbit's shoulder, "It just looks dark because we can't see the moon. Don't worry, Pip, the sun will start rising in a few hours and the daylight will make things seem much brighter."

All had heard Merry's optimistic outlook, and knew that he had been talking about Frodo's recovery as well as the night sky. Strider knew that the hobbits had to stick together now more than any other part of their journey, and they would need to give each other the encouragement and confidence to carry on. If not for their own sakes, then for Frodo.

The hot drinks were gratefully accepted once ready. The warmth the mugs generated seeping into the hobbit's small hands. Strider set a half filled mug aside to allow it to cool more. He also drew the salt and sugar mixture that Pippin had helped prepare.

Merry and Pippin set about helping to set out blankets for bedding. Once he was satisfied that the Merry and Sam's beds where prepared, Pippin turned towards Strider with blanket still in hand, a questioning look on his face.

"Will you be sleeping today?" thinking it an odd sounding question. He knew that Strider would probably need some rest before they set off walking again. Though Frodo's fragile condition was a great worry for them all, and someone would no doubt need to be watching over him.

Strider smiled at the young hobbit, "I have been a Ranger for a number of years, Master Pippin. I have taught myself to rely on less sleep when underneath the sky. Have no fear, I will take care of your cousin today while you, Merry and Sam rest."

"Might get a bit cold though, so you better take this," Pippin said sheepishly, handing the blanket to the Ranger.

Whatever the faults of hobbits as thought by other races, lack of care and consideration for others was certainly not one of them, Strider noted to himself. Although circumstances beyond their control had brought him into their company, and although scared and unsure of the immediate future, the hobbits found strength in each other.

Later that day, the camp was quiet. The three hobbits were huddled together in their blankets, taking what refuge in sleep that they could. At first it had taken some time to convince Sam that he could not watch over his master every waking minute.

After clearing away the mugs, Sam had taken up position next to Frodo. He held his limp, pale hand and watched intently for any sign on his master's face of movement or consciousness. There was none, and with each passing hour, Sam's heart seemed to constrict a little more about the plight of Frodo.

Diligently, Sam had aided Strider in dosing Frodo with the sugar and salt mixture.

Frodo attempting to turn his head away from the cup, perhaps sensing the bitter taste that was to come. Sam had whispered a few comforting words of reassurance, his voice appearing to work, calming him down enough for a small swallow to be placed in his mouth and trickle down his throat.

Frodo's brow had furrowed briefly, his eyelids twitching, as though he was trying to wake. Sam had almost gasped with delight of seeing his master open his eyes, but was disappointed when there was no further reaction.

"These things take time, Sam," Strider said softly. "Your master has endured much, and must rest a lot to recover from the blood loss. You should also rest now and regain your strength as there is still a long way for us to travel."

The stout hobbit nodded his head in reluctant agreement, and rather than allowing his unshed tears to fall in front of the Ranger, Sam took himself to his blankets and forced himself to drift off into an uneasy and light sleep.

Strider had risen from his vigil briefly to restoke the dying fire embers, when suddenly, Frodo began tossing and turning, grunting from the pain and looking as though he was trying to get up.

"No Frodo, no," Strider said, trying his best to restrain the hobbit before he injured himself further. "You must not move around so."

Fresh pain flared in Frodo's shoulder again, extracting a scream from the hobbit, which awoke his cousins. Merry and Pippin were at his side a few seconds after Sam, all of them alarmed at the level of pain etched on their friend's face.

"N-o-no (_heavily panting), _they ar-are coming again," Frodo said through clench teeth, acting as though he could sense the presence of the Black Riders. "Ah-hhhh," he screamed again, arching his back and twisting his neck from the agony of his wound.

Exhaustion didn't take long to settle into the small body, and despite his desperate attempts, Frodo could no longer muster the strength to pull his upper body upright, and slumped backwards, Sam preventing him from jarring his shoulder any further.

Frodo now lay collapsed against Sam's chest, his breathing very shallow and raspy to hear, in between the moans of pain. His suffering was very difficult for any of them to watch.

"You just rest, Mr Frodo," Sam said, "Ain't going to do you any good getting yourself all upset now. Me and Strider won't let anything else happen to you and Mr Merry and Mr Pippin are here to help too."

"He is in terrible pain, Strider," Merry commented, knowing that he was stating the obvious. "He still thinks those things are out there."

Frodo had not moved for a few moments, and his pale features noticeable. Strider placed two fingers against the pulse in his neck, showing a little relief at its pace. Strider carefully lifted one of the eyelids and noticed the lack of response from the pupil. "He is unconscious once more. His body does not have the strength to withstand the pain, and such an outburst seeks only to weaken Frodo further."

"I don't know which is worse, seeing him laying as pale as a bairn, not moving, or writhing about and screaming out from the pain," Pippin remarked. "I wish there was more we could do to help him," echoing the unspoken thoughts of them all.

"He will not wake for a few hours. The best way to help is to rest so we may continue our journey tonight with haste and get him to the medical attention he needs in Rivendell. There is no better place that could help him," Strider told the hobbits.

"Then it is back to bed for us then, and no question about it," Sam said in his usual practical tone of voice. "Nothing is more important than getting Mr Frodo to that place you just said," Sam added, giving the two younger hobbits a nudge to encourage them back to bed.

"Rivendell, Samwise," Strider repeated, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth at the gardener. Of course he could have told them that Rivendell was also known by yet another name, but decided to leave that little piece of information until they had reached the place he called home for the majority of his childhood years.

The Ranger's constant vigil continued for the new few hours. At various intervals, he checked temperature, the bandages for any fresh bleeding and dosed Frodo with the salt and sugar solution.

Although very weakened and frail looking, Strider noted that the hobbit seemed willing to live rather than take the easier path and succumbing to death. The Ranger's keen alertness now drawn to Frodo's face as the hobbit appeared to show some signs of regaining consciousness once more. He did not wish to hurry Frodo, and allowed him all the time his body needed to fight the fog and bring himself awake.

_Frodo's point of view:_

"_I feel so heavy. As though a great weight is seated upon my chest. I try and draw a fresh breath of air into my lungs and almost cough from the resistance in my lungs._

_Pain._

_Where am I? but the thought is interrupted by more pain. I cannot escape it and it _

_is all consuming, like a great fire._

_I try and listen to my surroundings for a clue that might help my incoherent thoughts_

_to focus more. _

_Dizziness swarms in my mind, threatening to lower the dark veil once more._

_I attempt to lift my hand to my head to stop the spinning sensation, and although I can_

_feel my hand moving, I have yet to determine in which direction my head is._

_Without warning, a memory floods into my thoughts like a tidal wave. I hear myself_

_scream and the pain engulfs me again……………_

Frodo's eyes suddenly snapped open at the memory of the moment when the Nazgul blade entered his shoulder.

""Easy Frodo, easy," Strider soothed, assuring the hobbit that the threat had subsided

He notes that the hobbit's brilliant blue eyes are more alert, and there is a little more colour to his face.

Frodo turns his face towards the voice speaking to him, and he allows his mind to put a name to the face……. Strider.

The ranger sees the slight change in Frodo's stare that signals recognition. His hand is trembling a little. Frodo tries to speak, but his throat is very dry. Probably a side effect from the doses of salt and sugar that have been necessary up to now to restore some of the blood he has lost.

Strider brings a small mug to his lips, and gives him a few small sips of plain water. There is a little relief from the dryness in his throat, but a grimace also from the pain that is ever present.

"S-Sam?" Frodo croaks, barely audibly.

"Resting," Strider replied, adjusting the blankets over the hobbit who appeared to be shivering a little from cold. "They have been very worried over you."

Frodo wanted to ask another question, but the dizziness was getting worse and he had to close his eyes briefly to stop the world tilting on its side.

The Ranger could see Frodo's delicate condition, and assumed what the question would be, and answered it the best he could, fearing too much information may frighten the hobbit and cause him to injure himself further.

"You were injured by a blade through your shoulder," Strider said gently. "You must not move too much or it will only cause you more pain."

Frodo nodded his head slightly to signal he understood, the pain flaring once more as though in emphasis of the Ranger's warning.

There were more questions that needed to be asked and answers sought, but the Ranger could see even such a short length of time awake had taxed the hobbit's strength. He used the palm of his hand on Frodo's forehead in a stroking motion to encourage him to return to sleep.

Frodo's brow frowned a few more times and he moaned as pain assailed him, but the Ranger's motions were gentle and soothing. The dizziness had not abated and Frodo found the only way to regain any relief was with his eyes closed. Once the lids began to droop, he did not have the will to keep them open any longer.

Frodo slept once more.

"Merry, am I dreaming or is that food I can smell?" Pippin asked sleepily, the aromas from Sam's cooking pot coaxing him awake.

Merry too was still dozing fitfully, and tried his best to ignore his cousin's question until he too could detect the rich smells. "You are not dreaming Pip, or else we are both having the same dream.

Both young hobbits came awake at the sound of a moan from Frodo and scrambled to be by his side. Sam had set down the ladle that he had been using to stir the evening meal, just as anxious over his master.

"He is becoming awake more often, still in short spans. He is very confused at the moment and the pain from his shoulder wound only adds to this and weakens him further," Strider explained to the three hobbits.

Merry, Pippin and Sam all clung to each word the Ranger said about Frodo's health.

They could see his pain and the confusion etched on his pale face, but did not fully understand whether he was showing signs of improvement or deteriorating.

Sam felt a slight tug on the hem of his coat, and quickly took the limp hand of his master. Frodo didn't open his eyes, but tried to say something. Sam leaned his ear closer, distressed by the shallow breath that escaped Frodo's lips as he attempted to speak.

"_W-water"_

A mug was passed into Sam's hand, and he gently placed the rim of the cup against his master's pale, dry lips as Strider lifted the dark head of curls.

Frodo only drank a small amount, and paused a moment afterwards. Very slowly, the Ranger and the 3 hobbits were rewarded with his eyelids beginning to flutter open. At first, just a crack, waiting until his eyes had time to adjust to the smallest amount of light.

"Oh, Frodo," Pippin exclaimed as his elder cousin opened his eyes and looked up at those gazing back down at him. The young hobbit was on the verge of tears, both in relief that Frodo was awake, and also because of the worry that still plagued them about his wound.

"H-Hello, Pip," Frodo said, his voice barely audible, but a little less hoarse due to his now moistened throat. He was prevented from saying anything further as a wave of pain ran through his shoulder, causing him to grimace and grit his teeth. His tenuous grip on Sam's hand grew tighter as the pain assailed him unmercifully.

"Frodo, I would like you to drink a little more of this please," Strider said, waiting until the hobbit felt the pain abating slightly. It was the sugar and salt mixture that he and Pippin had been replenishing, but the Ranger hoped that Frodo was not yet alert enough to resist.

Frodo allowed the cup to be brought to his lips and sips at the contents. The sugar and salt had settled a little in the water, and the taste took a moment to register on his face. The hobbit pulled away from the cup, showing his displeasure at the liquid.

Waiting until the taste had left his tongue, Frodo eyed Strider, and in a very quiet, but serious tone stated the obvious, "_That was not water". _Frodo's eyes now closed once more, and another wave of pain tightened the torn muscle in his shoulder.

"I must apologize for the taste my friend, but it necessary to help your body recover," Strider explained, but his next statement, was one he had been trying to avoid for a few hours.

"Frodo, the bandages on your shoulder must be changed. I have waited as long as possible, but fear that we must do it now to avoid the risk of infection setting in. I do not wish to cause you more discomfort, but have to warn that it may cause further pain. I will be as gentle as I can."

Frodo didn't answer, and Merry thought he had fallen back to sleep when all saw a small nod of his head, "Do what you must," Frodo said, as he moaned again at a fresh stab of pain.

"Sam will be here with you, and Merry and Pippin will be here to help," Strider said, trying to reassure Frodo.

"Merry, there is a small bowl in my backpack, please retrieve it. Pippin, you can aid me in helping to chop up some herb that I will submerse in water in the bowl. In this water I will then soaked the fresh bandages that will be used on Frodo's shoulder.

The leaves have a healing property and are well recognized in the treatment of many ailments."

For the next few moments, Merry diligently got the bowl as requested and then filled it with slightly tepid water as instructed by Strider. Pippin was shown how to chop a few small leaves of the dried herb, though most of it crumpled into pieces with the pressure of the knife blade.

"You are doing it correctly," the Ranger said to Pippin. "These leaves may not be as effective as the fresh leaves, but there are all I have available until I get gain a fresh supply. They will help."

Sam tried to take note of the instructions that Strider was giving to Merry and Pippin, but kept a close vigil over Frodo. He had brushed a few stray dark curls off Frodo's face, wishing that he could somehow bear the pain.

Strider had carefully folded a strip of fabric into a long bandage, but left it wide enough to cover a large surface area. He wanted to be able to treat the wound as best as he could without causing any more pain to Frodo than was necessary.

The ranger lay the fabric in the water and watched as the water began enfusing with the folds of fabric. Before it would be able to be used, they would have to first remove the bandage that already adorned Frodo's shoulder.

"Can you slip off his shirt when I lift him, Sam?" Strider asked. "It will be easer to reach the bandages and replace them if his shirt has been completely removed."

"Merry, you and Pippin be ready to assist Sam, if Frodo begins feeling too much pain. Try not to jostle him too much, this will be most unpleasant for all of us to endure."

The first part of removing Frodo's shirt seemed to be completed without too much fuss. And for a moment the three hobbits were fooled into thinking that Frodo may be asleep and may not feel being moved or the bandages changed.

They were soon sadly mistaken as a quick sharp intake of breath escape from Frodo, the hobbit becoming alert from the pain and trying to move out of Aragorn's hands.

"Sh-sh Frodo," Strider cajoled, but the hobbit would not be calmed and began becoming more restless as the pain in his shoulder increased.

"Almost done," Sam said, trying to concentrate as much as possible on his task, but the moans of pain from his master distracting him a little. "Just have to get his arm out of the sleeve. I don't want to cut it as he don't have many left and we be a long way from any market to fetch a fresh shirt."

Sam had almost completed the removing of Frodo's shirt, when a sharper, more intense wave of pain hit the hobbit, causing him to cry out and arch his back to try and escape his torment.

"_S-stop," _came the whispered plea. Frodo's failing strength was the only thing that prevented him from tossing his body about more.

"_P-please, it hurts"_

Merry had moved to the other side of Frodo, and taken the other hand of his cousin in his own, hoping to do something to calm his injured cousin. The cries of pain tore at him and he could scarcely keep himself from asking Sam to stop what he was doing.

"_It hurts" _

"I am trying to be as careful as I can Mr Frodo. Please forgive me, I didn't mean to hurt you more," Sam said in anguish.

"Merry, fill this basin with a little more of the warm water. I need to clean the wound before it is redressed," Strider instructed, handing the hobbit a small wooden bowl.

Merry left Frodo's side briefly to fill the bowl as requested, and handed it back to the Ranger. He once again held Frodo's hand, hoping to provide whatever comfort he could to his stricken cousin.

Pippin watched with an uneasy interest as Strider began cutting away at the old bandages on Frodo's shoulder. Unlike his shirt, fresh bandages could be made, and the old ones would not be used again. He would be ready to assist should the Ranger ask at any time during the procedure.

"Pippin, take these bandages by the ends and discard them into the fire. Be careful not to touch any part of the fabric which is stained. This wound was caused by a Morgul blade, and as such some of the evil remains," Strider warned the young hobbit.

Pippin did as he was told, only holding onto the old bandages by the very corners for as long as was absolutely necessary. A short flick of his wrist and they were placed amongst the flames. A slightly acrid stench could be detected as the fire burned the bandages to ashes.

Merry and Sam gasped a little at the sight of Frodo's exposed wound. Pippin rejoined the small group to view the Ranger's administrations and was as shocked as the other hobbits to see the black stains on Frodo's normally pale skin.

The edges of the gash where the sword blade had entered the fleshy part of his shoulder were puckered and jaggered. Almost as though there had been metal barbs on the edges of the blade that tore the skin as they were harshly withdrawn from Frodo.

The flesh surrounding the wound was reddened and appeared to be slightly swollen. Strider prepared a small fresh cloth and dampened it a little in the warm water that Merry had retrieved. This was going to be the most painful part for Frodo thus far.

"Hold him, this will hurt him, but is unavoidable if the wound is to be kept as clean as possible," Strider voiced in a serious tone.

The ranger took meticulous care, dabbing at the hobbit's skin as gently as possible with a soft cloth. But even this small amount of touch, caused Frodo's muscles to contract in spasm as pain flared once more. The hands that Merry and Sam had been holding onto were now formed into fists.

It was difficult for those watching over him, their futile efforts of comforting seeming to have little effect or aiding Frodo in coping with the pain in his shoulder. After a few more minutes of fighting, the struggles noticeably weakened.

To Strider's relief, Frodo's struggled ceased and he became quiet and still. Fainted no doubt from the amount of pain that was continually sapping his remaining strength.

The hobbit appeared to be restless and unable to achieve proper sleep or reprieve from the assault on his body.

"He feels a great deal less pain for now," the Ranger commented, seeing the downcast faces of the other hobbits still gathered by Frodo's side. The three hobbits continued to watch on intently at Strider's actions, but saying very little.

Strider was able to bandage the wound, still being as gentle as he could even though Frodo was unconscious. He did not wish to jar the wounded shoulder. When complete he took note of Frodo's other vital signs. His breathing was slower and a little shallow.

The last symptom that the Ranger checked in his small patient was Frodo's temperature, gentle placing the back of his hand on the hobbit's forehead. He frowned a little at the extra warm that he began to feel.

"A little warm perhaps, but nothing to be alarmed about," Strider commented.

"We shall increase his water intake to counteract the rise in temperature."

"What do we do now?" Merry asked, knowing that there was another long night of walking ahead of them.

"We shall allow Frodo to rest for another hour, and then give him some more water, but this time I think we can leave out the sugar and salt. His body should begin to renew the blood he has lost without any more artificial additives.

During the next forty-five minutes, the three hobbits went about eating a satisfying meal that would keep up their own strength during the night ahead. All seemed to be yawning from a little lack of sleep, but Strider believed them to be coping very well given their constant vigil over Frodo.

Half an hour later, Frodo began to stir, much to the amazement of Strider, and the delight of Sam and his cousins. At first the signs of waking were subtle, but they gradually increased.

Frodo lifted his uninjured arm to his forehead, as though trying to clear his thoughts and gain his bearings of time he had lost.

"Oh, Mr Frodo," but Sam couldn't find the right words to continue the sentence.

His eyes brimmed with fresh tears of joy at seeing his master beginning to wake. Frodo's luminous blue eyes looking back at him, clearly confused about what was happening.

"Frodo!" Pippin exclaimed with excitement, but Merry was able to pull him back a little.

"Give him some time to wake up a bit first, Pip," Merry scolded gently, but in return he was scarcely able to contain he own sense of relief at seeing Frodo gain consciousness.

Frodo tried to speak a few words, startled by everyone crowding in around him, but most of all unable to explain why he hurt so much. Although he wanted to ask what had happened, the first sound that escaped his lips was a low guttural moan as a result of the pain that had been reignited in his shoulder.

"_Hurts…………….." _Frodo managed to utter, his voice betraying his barely concealed urge to scream out as loud as he could.

"You must lie as still as you can, Frodo," Strider said, using a gentle hand to prevent him trying to sit up. The Ranger didn't think the weakened hobbit had the strength to do so, but he couldn't take the risk of Frodo injuring himself further.

It was clear to the Ranger and the hobbits that Frodo was more coherent waking this time than he had been since Weathertop. Although he couldn't mask the pain he was feeling, he was clearly trying to retrace his steps backwards in his mind to remind himself of how he arrived at such a time and to be hurting so badly.

Strider had been preparing the hobbits to begin their recommence their evening journey, but with Frodo wakening, he urged on the side of caution and waited a little longer.

Frodo turned his attention to Strider, looking at him with clear blue, luminous eyes, full of questions, but not being able to find the right word to begin asking.

"You were hurt badly, do you remember?" Strider released, not wishing to spill all of the terrible details to the frail hobbit at once.

Frodo seemed to think on the question for a moment. As though he was trying to recall to a time when he remembered getting hurt. Surely he would remember that. He closed his eyes, not to sleep, but to deepen the concentration and focus.

Then all at once, Frodo did remember, and the others clearly saw the reaction.

Frodo's brilliant blue eyes snapped open and he sat up urgently, almost screeching at the pain that erupted from his injured shoulder from such a sudden movement. Sam and Merry put their arms around him to prevent him to trying to stand up, but the hobbit was frightened.

That exact moment on Weathertop of the blade slicing through his flesh was being remembered so vividly for the first time. Frodo was gasping for breath, and his teeth were clenched as he battled the pain assailing his body.

"They were here……….." Frodo stuttered, not remembering any of the journey he had spent in Strider's arms unconscious. The hobbit was frantically looking about their immediate camping area, as though he expected to see the dark figures that he had faced.

His skin paled a few shades and Sam was worried he was going to faint dead away in his arms. The stout hobbit tried his best to whisper soothing words to his master, telling him that the horrid creatures had been chased off by flame and that he was safe.

"Frodo, calm down," Strider insisted, trying to reassure the terrified hobbit. "You are safe now and the Ringwraiths will not return upon this night."

Frodo seemed to hear the words that the Ranger and Sam spoke, looking at both of them and seeing truth in what they said. The pain in his shoulder had not abated at all and he forced a scream down to a deep moan, leaning heavily back against Sam, regretting that he had moved at all.

"W-Where…………" Frodo whispered, his throat feeling parched.

Pippin produced the cup of water and held it to his cousin's lips and was happy to see him drink and return a smile of thanks when the cup was withdrawn.

"Where are we going?" Frodo asked, his voice a little stronger. It would seem that he had lost track of some time, and the surroundings were unfamiliar.

"To get you and your cousins to a place of safety," Strider said, hoping that Frodo would take comfort from such an explanation. "You need not worry about anything but rest my young friend. You have much healing to do."

Strider couldn't have been sure that Frodo had heard his answer, the hobbit appearing to have sagged against Sam further and fallen asleep. His breathing was regular, though still sounding a little shallow.

"I believe it is time to leave," Strider said, not wanting to dwell much longer. He had been relieved to see Frodo regain consciousness and be coherent enough to understand some of what was going on. His outburst of the Ringwraiths being near was not expected, but understandable, given his state of confusion.

Sam gazed down at his master's sleeping face as Strider moved to pick Frodo up. He made sure that there was two blankets tucked in around his master before getting ready to carry his own pack.

Merry and Pippin had gathered their own belongings, and were happy that Frodo had awoken, even for a short time. They knew he needed a proper bed to sleep in and proper hobbit food, but after that, they didn't see any reason why Frodo shouldn't get better.

Neither of them knew just how wrong they were or how quickly things change……….

During this part of the journey, Frodo could recall some moments of consciousness and pain. Though vague and brief, his thoughts were slowly beginning to more cohesive.

The hobbit could feel himself moving, not from the power of his own feet, but the steady gait of a much stronger person. Strider must be carrying him, he wanted to know where his cousins and Sam where, but he quickly fell back to sleep.

The next time he awoke, he was much more disoriented than before. His eyelids were heavy and he could not determine if a long time or much shorter span of time had elapsed since his last awakening.

His shoulder was aching abominably, but he could not gather the strength to try and use his voice to tell someone. Frodo's discomfort and pain grew until all he could do in protest was allow some moans of pain to escape his lips.

Strider had been listening carefully to the hobbit's breathing, and had heard some whimpers of pain. The moans became more persistent and he stopped briefly, trying to see the cause for Frodo's displeasure.

Sam, Merry and Pippin noticed the Ranger's pause in walking, and the concern that showed on his brow as he reached a hand inside the bundle of blankets.

"He feels much warmer than before. Perhaps _too _warm," Strider said, voicing his concern.

"But that is good isn't it? Pippin asked, not really thinking before he asked the question. "Up until now his skin has felt too cold. Maybe it is a sign that he is slowly starting to pull through?"

The hopefulness and pleading on the young hobbit's face was difficult to ignore, but at the same time, Strider was not in a position to be able to help fuel those hopeful thoughts.

He did not want to openly admit that Frodo condition was very grave indeed, but at the same time, he knew that the other hobbits were holding on to the single idea that Frodo would beat his injury and begin to recover.

Merry could see the dilemma that the Ranger faced with Pippin's plea, but although he did hope for his cousin's rapid recovery, he could see for himself that Frodo fought to draw in each breath and that pain was consuming him relentlessly.

"Let us resume walking. We will stop in a while and take some rest. It would be time them to give Frodo some water and re-examine the wound," Strider encouraged.

As so the group did for a time, with Merry and Sam, both watching out for Frodo but also knowing that they needed to be mindful of Pippin. He was not a child, but not quite old enough to grasp the danger that Frodo was currently in.

The progress made during the night was equivalent to the distance they had covered the evening before. Strider was grateful for this, although he could see it visibly taxing the strength of the three hobbits walking with him.

_(Frodo's point of view as he tries to wake and realises something is dreadfully wrong)_

'_Hot……….. so hot'_

'_I try to open my mouth to groan at the discomfort, but my lips are parched and this _

_heat is consuming me.'_

'_Hot'_

'_I try and focus on something else apart from my shoulder, but there is another sensation_

_that my dull senses are being alerted to that makes me hold my breath'_

'_My shirt feels hot and sticky. Maybe too sticky.' _

'_My thoughts are fading in and out and it is difficult to keep alert for more than a moment.'_

"_Try and alert the person carrying me that something is not right, but any movement_

_sends wave upon wave of pain through my whole body.'_

It was during the last hour of walking before sunrise, when Strider felt a weakened pull on his tunic. When he looked down at the pale face, Frodo appeared to be still asleep, his eyes closed. His features are a little pinched with pain, as it had been before they began walking tonight.

'_Sticky. Why does it feel so sticky? I am hot, but it does not feel like sweat on my body.'_

'_Then fear truly strikes me as my addled mind pieces together that the stickiness is blood.'_

'_Blood. The back and front of my shirt feel as though it is clinging to my upper body._

Strider does not understand at first the puzzling weak attempts by the stricken hobbit

to move. He is about to try and calm Frodo from hurting himself further, when he

feels a small breath near his ear.

"_Help"_

Strider stopped his walking, intent on listening to the hobbit, making sure he had heard correctly.

"Frodo?"

The three other hobbits who had been walking slightly ahead of the Ranger, pause and rejoin him at the mention of Frodo's name.

"Did he say something?" Sam asked, trying to peer over the blankets and look at his master's face.

"_Bleeding"_

"No!" Strider gasped in alarm and laid the hobbit down as carefully as he dared, and trying to unwrap Frodo from his blankets. "Sam, water, hurry!"

Sam could tell from the tone of the Ranger's voice that there was no time for questions. He dropped his own pack where he stood, and loosing one of the larger pots as quickly as he could, filled it with some of the water from a skin that Merry gave to him.

One the blankets had been spread out enough for all to see, it was very clear why Strider was worried. The front of Frodo's linen shirt was soaked in dark maroon stains. Around the wound itself, the red was crimson, indicating its freshness.

"His wound is bleeding again," Pippin blurted out, noting everyone's observation.

Merry knelt by his cousin's side and put his hand on Frodo's brow, startled by the amount of heat he could feel. "His fever is much higher than before."

Strider was attempting to remove the blood soaked shirt as gently as he could, but with the crusted blood pulling at the skin, hisses of pain escaped Frodo's lips.

"I am sorry, Frodo, but this cannot be helped," Strider said in apology, but doubted that the halfling understood. He looked briefly at the pale face before thin, noting Frodo's attempts to open them amidst some more moans of pain.

Frodo's eyes were dilated and his pupils slightly glazed over, further evidencing the presence of fever and infection.

"Thankfully he was aware enough to sense the bleeding. It could be much worse if he had sustained a greater blood loss," Strider explained as he worked to stem the flow as quickly as possible.

Sam wasn't so sure, as he saw the amount of blood that stained his master's shirt and how delirious Frodo seemed as a result of the fever.

Merry blanched when he saw Strider's blood covered hands as he discarded the bandages that had been wrapped over the wound previously. "You are going to need more bandages," he stated.

"There are some already prepared in Sam's pack," Strider informed him, not looking up from his work. He was unaware of Merry's queasiness and did not fully understand the hobbit's rushed offer to fetch them rather than remain watching.

Pippin tried to make himself as useful as possible, by dribbling a few drops of water into Frodo's mouth. He helped his cousin to moisten his parched lips, and could feel the same heat from the fever that Merry had noted a few moments ago.

With his throat feeling raw and the heat still suppressing and overwhelming, Frodo moaned low and harshly as the pain assaulted him. He began to try and roll away from the pain, but was prevented by a firm hand on his uninjured shoulder by Strider.

The Ranger could see that the fever was growing and that Frodo's state of confusion was worsening. He had to try and calm the hobbit down and get him to relax as much as possible. The movement would only cause further bleeding and weakening upon his already frail condition.

The wound was now clearly visible again, with the dark crusting around the edges of the gash that had been seen earlier. The skin surrounding the area was dark and swollen and puckered in places.

"Sam, I am going to need your help as well you two, Merry and Pippin," Strider instructed. "I am going to try and clean around the area with a dampered cloth before fresh bandages are applied."

The three hobbits nodded their assistance and placed themselves as the Ranger asked, their faces worried by calm.

"Forgive me Frodo," Strider said sofly as he began washing away the blood on his upper chest. He started as far away from the wound itself, but as soon as the cloth made contact, Frodo's pain fill eyes flew open, and a scream escaped his mouth.

The three hobbits did their best to restrain him, but even though they tried to talk soothingly to him, it seemed that Frodo did not heed their words of comfort. He had tried to lift his upper body from the ground, but lacked the strength and the resulting pain from such sudden movement, left him panting as he fell back partly against Sam.

"P…..Please….. don't…," Frodo whispered, his agony clear. There was no other way to express his pain or his misery except to allow the tears fall down his pale face.

Merry and Pippin cried openly along with their fallen cousin, without shame, still trying to help as much as they could. Pippin was becoming tired and exhausted himself. The emotions of the night and the long walk had sapped his youthful strength.

Strider could see his distress and motioned for Merry to take Pippin and put him to bed. They had not planned to camp here this day, but the was enough shelter nearby offered by the trees that could be used and Frodo was obviously in no condition to travel any further.

Once Pippin had been settled a little, Merry took on Sam's usual role and began setting up the meagre camp site. He build a small fire, hoping a hot cup of tea would help all of their spirits. He wanted to help Frodo, but understood that the best hands were already doing as much as they possibly could. He silently prayed that it would be enough.

Frodo's moans of pain had become less frequent and quieter, but Strider did not think it was because he was feeling less pain. He was worried that the fever was spiking again would need to sponge down his young patient with cool water as soon as his shoulder was tended to.

"Sam, I am going to need to make a poultice to try and draw out some of the infection from the wound. It will take a few moments to prepare. I dare not stitch the wound for fear of causing more damage until the wound can be examined properly," Strider told him.

"His wound is still bleeding," he noted, even though Strider had only cleaned the area a moment ago. "He will bleed himself out."

"I need you to stay with him whilst I crush the ingredients for the poultice. You must keep him calm, but the most important task for you will be to hold the wound together to give his body a chance to stop the bleeding naturally."

Sam swallowed the lump of fear that was in his throat at the thought of having to do what Strider asked. He knew what had to be done, but to bring pain upon his master was almost more than he could bear.

"You will not have to do so for long, but Frodo will grow weaker and weaker if we cannot stop the bleeding. The fever will take a stronger hold on him then it already has," Strider said, knowing it was a difficult time for Sam.

Sam wiped away the stray tears from his face and set his jaw to what needed to be done. "Show me what I need to do, please."

"Place you right hand here," Strider instructed, guiding the smaller hand to where the pressure needed to be. "Your left here," he continued. "Not enough pressure and the wound will continue to bleed. Too much and it will be too painful for Frodo."

Sam nodded his head to indicate he understood the Ranger's words, but did not trust himself to speak. Strider watched, and did not have to leave the scene, but now looked for the ingredients to make the poultice. There were many that could be used, but he wanted to keep the ingredients as natural and simple as possible.

Frodo moaned in pain, and Sam was worried he was causing the pain, but with Strider's reassurance he maintained the position of his hands . The blood was slowing, but there was enough to cause more alarm for the stout hobbit.

"Try to see if he can hear your voice, Sam," Strider suggested, hoping to distract both hobbits from their torment.

"You want me to talk to him?" Sam asked, unsure if his master was up to a conversation of any kind.

"Just let him here your voice, it has helped to calm him on our journey so far," Strider said, remembering back to the storm and on a few other occasions that Sam's gentle nature shone through.

"Mr Frodo," Sam said, barely loud enough to be heard, his hands lifting a little, and a small trickle of blood forming on top of the wound and tickling down underneath his master's injured arm.

Strider smiled encouraging but did not interrupt his attempts. He had placed 3 leaves of the same type in a bowl and a fourth that was of a different texture and he was using a mortar to crush the leaves into smaller pieces.

And then in that moment, something happened that no one could have ever guessed.

Merry had fallen asleep a few minutes ago, out of exhaustion like Pippin, and therefore had unfortunately missed such a telltale moment.

"Frodo?" Sam asked, in a clear, but soft voice. There was no call from servant to master. Only friend to friend and a desperate need from one to see the other well again.

At first there was no response, but then, ever so slowly, those beautiful eyes, still glassy with fever, but with a hint of recognition in them, opened and looked back at Sam.

There was a silent pause for a few moments while Frodo tried to smile through the pain. Reaching up with his good hand and gentle caressed the side of Sam's face with the tip of his fingertips.

"You called me Frodo," came the tired response.

Sam turned his face into the gentle touch but the expression on his face was one of puzzlement at Frodo's statement.

Frodo's eyes fluttered a few times and Sam didn't know if he had the strength to stay awake much longer. He can hear the battle just to breath, the exertion and the whimpers of pain.

"No Mister," Frodo said, trying to smile at the thought, but it quickly turned into a grimace as a fresh wave of pain coursed through his shoulder, causing him to groan low and deep.

Sam now understood what his master was trying to say and for a moment thought that he had over stepped the boundaries of his rank, but seeing the half-smile on Frodo's face he relaxed a little that no chiding was forthcoming. His old Gaffer certainly would have, and that was the straight out truth.

Sam was brought back to as he heard Frodo's breathing become a little raspy and harsh. As he checked the pressure that he still maintained over the wound itself, Frodo's hand that had stroked his cheek, now fell away limply.

"He is unconscious again," Strider said, having full appreciation of the tender moment that was just shared between the two hobbits.

Sam could only now release the tears that he had fought so hard not to show in front of Frodo. He couldn't help but feel that he loosing is best friend and master.

"Fight, Mr Frodo, fight. As hard as you can, don't let them evil things win."

"I am ready to place the poultice over the wound now, Samwise."

"Release your hands slowly now, and I will put in gently over the area," Strider instructed. "When you have cleaned your hands, pass me some of the bandages that Merry supplied."

Sam did as he was asked and removed his hands, which where now stained a mixture of black and crimson. Shakily he washed them with some water and handed the clean, fresh bandages to Strider.

"Help me lift him up a little so that I can wrap the bandage around his back," Strider asked, focusing on his task, but bearing in mind to be as gentle as possible with his young, frail patient.

Sam would have preferred to hear some moans of pain coming from his Master's lips as the Ranger worked to rebandage his injured shoulder. But the fact that no sound could be heard at all and that his features were very lax, only confirmed how deeply unconscious he was.

The only spot of colour on his face being the flush on his cheeks due to the fever. Sam brushed back some of the curls from Frodo's face, noting that the heat was still present.

Once he had fastened the cotton bandages, Strider gave Frodo some water and bathed his forehead and neck with cool water to try and bring down his fever. It was only when he had finished all of his administrations that he thought about moving the injured hobbit from where he had been first laid down on the ground.

Sam had used some of the spare blankets and spread them only a few feet from where Merry and Pippin where sleeping. He realised the important of keeping the group as close together as possible on this journey, from they knew not from which direction their foe may strike.

"You have done well this day, Sam and I thank you for your diligence and patient. I know some of it was very difficult. Frodo's recovery is very slow and he is a great deal of pain."

"I hate seeing him laying there all pale and hurting," Sam admitted. "T'aint right that he should suffer so."

"No, but we are doing everything we can to help him. I suggest you take some rest with Merry and Pippin as Frodo may require you later if he wakes," Strider said, but he doubted that Frodo would be awake anytime within the next few hours.

"I don't think I could right now, even if I wanted to," Sam said. "I will sit here with Mr Frodo and see that he is comfortable."

Strider didn't have the heart to try and dissuade the stout hobbit, but knew that Sam was growing weary as well. Neither of them bothered with food and Merry and Pippin still slept.

Strider began to hum a gentle, but sad song that he had learnt long ago. The notes almost hypnotic and allowing any listener to relax to its melody. After humming half the song, the Ranger had accomplished his intended task, turning to see Sam's head bowed on his chest, his hand resting on Frodo's uninjured arm, protecting him even in slumber.

Seeing no reason to move him, Strider carefully lay Sam down beside his master, covering him with a blanket. He positioned himself to be closest to Frodo so that he could monitor his patient through the day. He intended to keep up the cool bathing and dosing with water as often as he dared, but for now, Frodo needed uninterrupted rest.

From where he sat leaning against a tree where he could readily see all four hobbits.

The Ranger began to think about the journey that was yet before them. It was growing more perilous every day and there was still some days before they would reach Rivendell.

Looking at the four sleeping bundles near him, Strider realised that he was the one that they all look towards for protection.

Each of them having their own strengths and weaknesses that had worked well together up to now. Frodo situation caused the most concern, with them being many miles away from proper medical treatment. He had some supplies with him that had helped up until now, but the evilness of the morgul blade could not be denied.

They had barely escaped the darkness that had threatened them on Weathertop, and Frodo had paid a high price for their current freedom.

Strider suspected that they had only just begun to see its full effects upon the frail halfling.

TO BE CONTINUED…………………… in THE SPY IN RIVENDELL

Author's notes: Okay – this is the end of this story ESCAPE THE DARKNESS, but the series will continue on in SPY IN RIVENDELL. The next chapter will carry on from here to the Ford and who will reach Rivendell.

There will be many new faces to meet and the road will begin to darken for Frodo.

SPY IN RIVENDELL is due to have some major updates and changes. The chapter that appears now, will be added to and changed significantly.

I wanted to include the Ford scenes at the end of this chapter, but it will be one of the more complicated chapters that I have had to write so far, and the plot needs to work for the continuation of the story line.

Please know that there will be no Arwen arrival in my story to rescue Frodo. I have a different idea planned that will differ from both book and movie, but will contain some canon material.

I hope there are still a few people out there reading. Please let me know you are.

Anything that isn't movie or book related is just how I have wanted to change the story and add some different flavour.

My portrayal of Frodo and Sam is merely friendship and nothing else – but pure friendship in the most fiercest way – the strongest bond. I am still playing with the personalities of Pippin and Merry a little, and it may differ from how others have perceived them in the past.

I apologize for the length of time in updating, but real life leaves me next to no writing time at all at the moment, though I am always very keen to keep writing this story.

Please keep reading.

JULES


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